


Reader Request Month: Room Number Seven

by RubiesareforHunting



Series: Room Number Seven [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubiesareforHunting/pseuds/RubiesareforHunting
Summary: Welcome to Reader Request Month! Here, throughout the month of October, readers of Room Number Seven can request a special addition to my AU by commenting on this story.Is there a scene you wish had been included in the original story? Character relationships you want to see more of? An alternate ending to any of the original chapters posted?More smut?This is your chance to ask! Requests close October 31, 2020.Ratings and warnings will be updated accordingly.
Series: Room Number Seven [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905064
Comments: 140
Kudos: 74





	1. The Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! 
> 
> Please comment below with any of your deepest darkest desires for the characters and the story of Room Number Seven. Make sure to read the rules below before you do. 💋
> 
> Requests will close October 31, 2020.

1) Please limit your ideas to short scenarios or one-shots. 

2) If your idea will be addressed later in the Room Number Seven original story, I will not include it here, but will be sure to let you know to keep an eye out for it!

3) If your idea includes themes I am not comfortable writing, I may suggest an alternate idea. Some things I find difficult to write about include anything involving fluid play, degradation and purposefully unsafe BDSM scenarios such as playing while intoxicated. 

4) These ideas do not have to be Canon compliant, but they should be relevant to the character development already addressed in Room Number Seven. 

5) If your idea is not Canon compliant, please explain your reasoning behind your request. It helps me greatly to understand the "why" when adapting new ideas to an already established story. 

And as always, have fun and be kind. I look forward to hearing your ideas!


	2. Flu Season - ragingSteampunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin gets the flu, and Leon keeps him company while Gwen is away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slight deviation from the original request, which mentioned the possibility of Leon getting sick and Merlin taking care of him. Believe it or not I've had the reverse bouncing around in my head for a while now, it just never fit into any of the narratives I originally built into this universe. So thank you **ragingSteampunk** for all your lovely comments, and thank you for giving me an excuse to explore this dynamic a little more. I hope this satisfies all your cravings for a Big Brother Leon story, and check the end notes for some of my final thoughts. 💋

* * *

Leon wasn't really on call to Merlin. Although they had a working schedule, it was always an unspoken understanding between them that he worked for _Arthur_ on behalf of Merlin. So it wasn't often that Merlin called him out of the blue.

He was on his way to Merlin's apartment in Brixton when his Bluetooth picked up the call. He accepted with a button on his steering wheel, surprised to hear a groggy voice on the other end.

"Hey Balinor, I'm on my way. Is everything alright?"

"No," Merlin said. "I called off today, you don't have to pick me up. Sorry it's so late. I must have fallen asleep."

Leon frowned deeply. Merlin sounded awful. Like he'd been chewing on glass all day.

"You okay?"

"I think I caught Gwen's flu," he said miserably. He coughed, and the sound ratcheted up Leon's spine. He winced in sympathy.

"Where's Gwen now?" He asked, still heading towards Brixton. Merlin was always very conscious of his time, so to be calling him to cancel when Leon was practically at the door meant that Merlin was alone, otherwise he was sure Gwen would have put this particular ball in motion far earlier than Merlin had.

His suspicions were confirmed when Merlin said quietly,

"She's visiting her dad in Newcastle this weekend. It's his birthday."

"You sound like shit, mate," Leon said, taking a detour towards a petrol station he was familiar with in town.

"I feel like it," Merlin agreed. "Sorry again. I meant to call sooner but -"

"You must've fallen asleep," Leon finished for him. "Yeah don't worry about it. Feel better."

"Thanks," Merlin croaked. The line went dead.

Leon pulled into the station and thumbed open his phone. His first thought was to call Gwen, but that seemed stupid. She was in Newcastle, and regardless, there was no reason why she should be responsible for checking in on Merlin. He was an adult. He could take care of himself.

Leon put the phone down. Prepared to put the car in reverse and head back to Cavendish. Check in with Gwaine, maybe put on a football match and take advantage of the time off.

But he was gripping the steering wheel, staring at the light from the petrol store and a thought struck him. Merlin was an escort. What was the likelihood that he had health insurance?

Pretty fucking low, by Leon's count. And even if he _had_ health insurance, it wasn't like he could find his own way to a clinic in the state he was in.

"Ah Hell," Leon swore to himself. He picked up his phone again and dialed a number. Pulled out of the petrol station and back in the direction of Cavendish as the call connected.

"Elyan," he said. "Do we have antibiotics at the manor?"

"Sure," Elyan said. "In the panic room."

Leon breathed out a sigh of relief. Hit the open highway and stepped on the gas.

"Which ones would I use if I had the flu?"

* * *

All told, it took Leon an hour to make it back to Brixton. He had a list of instructions from Elyan, a temperature controlled case full of medication, and a plastic bag from Tescos filled with...well, stuff Leon liked when he was feeling under the weather. Mostly instant noodles and ginger ale. He didn't like orange juice, but Elyan insisted so he'd bought some and Gwaine had said something about Merlin eating fruit bottom yogurt so there was that.

He felt ridiculous.

Merlin probably had all this stuff anyway. They'd have a good laugh about this when it was all over. He was going to knock on that door and Balinor was going to open it, looking like death warmed over but functional. He was going to tell Leon he was overreacting, but thank him all the same. Leon would stay for tea and then bounce. He'd make it back to Cavendish in time to watch that football match before he started his rounds.

But the way Merlin sounded on the phone was grating at his nerves. Merlin never repeated himself. Probably the burden of having such a huge fucking brain in his head. So it was the fact that he'd tried to tell him he must have fallen asleep twice, that gave Leon pause.

It was probably nothing.

He parked the Charger on a discreet side street nearest to Merlin's building and cut the lights. Then he took all of his groceries, Elyan's instructions, the medication box, and fitted them neatly into a go bag he had under his passenger seat. Zipped it up. And watched the road.

He scanned the area a few times. But it was late and there wasn't anyone around. He didn't notice anyone out of place. And the truth was, people didn't lurk in the shadows hiding behind street corners like they do in the movies. The real professionals looked just like everybody else. And the ones who weren't professionals stood out like a sore thumb. Leon didn't see any of those things. So he gave it another three count and exited the car.

He hiked his bag up on his shoulder, and hunched a little against the cold as he jogged up the staircase to Merlin's apartment.

The light was on beneath the door, but when he knocked he didn't get an answer.

Leon knocked again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

He took a step out of the line of view from the street, where he was blocked by one of the pillars holding up the roof overhang above Merlin's door. And then he took out his phone to call him.

He could hear the phone ringing inside. No answer.

"Fuck this," Leon muttered his breath blooming in the cold. He took out his keys.

He went inside cautiously, just in case Merlin had gotten up to answer the door and he'd somehow missed it. But the apartment was eerily quiet.

He closed the door and took a quick look around as he toed off his boots. The lights were all on. There was a piece of paper on the kitchen table - it looked like a note from Gwen. Leon ignored it and followed the hall to Merlin's room.

He'd never actually seen it, but he knew the layout of the apartment because that was his job. He knew Merlin was at the back of the apartment, and Gwen's room was off the hall.

The door was cracked when he approached it. He stopped before touching it. Just listened.

He could hear someone breathing in the room. It was labored. Leon eased open the door. Let his eyes adjust to the light from the hall filtering into the bedroom.

Merlin was curled up on top of his mattress, in his boxers and a hoodie, every blanket he apparently owned in a massive pile on the floor. It looked like he'd kicked them off, and his joggers too. But he was shivering. Somehow he'd tucked all of his considerable height into a ball in the center of his bed, his arms folded around his middle, his whole body shaking. He coughed, and the sound startled Leon. It sounded like he was coughing up gravel and ash. The sound seemed to wake Merlin momentarily which drew from him a tiny whimper. He turned his head into his pillows, his shoulders heaving, and coughed again.

It sounded painful.

Leon knocked unceremoniously on the door.

"Oy, Balinor," he said.

He had expected Merlin to jump out of his skin. The whole reason he'd been brazen about it was because he knew from experience that Merlin startled easily, and seeing no way around it took the direct approach. So Leon was officially, off-the-deep-end worried when Merlin's only reaction was to reply sluggishly,

"...Gwen?"

Leon frowned. Tried again, gently.

"Merlin?" He said. "It's Leon."

The body on the mattress shifted minutely. Leon watched as Merlin attempted to lift his head, only making it far enough to glimpse Leon from over his shoulder. He didn't look like he knew what he was looking at. And then, as if the strain were too great, he let his head back down to the pillows and closed his eyes.

"Leon?" He said, sounding like Leon felt. Unsure. "I called."

"Yeah buddy," Leon said. "You did."

* * *

Merlin didn't get sick. At least, not often. He went to clinic once a month, out of pocket, sometimes more, if he got new clients. He was maybe a little obsessive about his health in that way. So he couldn't really remember the last time he was _call off of work_ sick.

This didn't feel like _call off of work_ sick, if he were being honest. This felt like _I might be in danger_ sick. He felt slow and his thoughts were disjointed. Everything hurt, but especially his sinuses. He could feel the pain in his teeth and Jesus Christ was it cold, but everything he touched felt sticky and hot somehow. Breathing was a labored, exhausting process.

He'd cried through a migraine that morning. When he'd tried to get up to find some pain killers he only made it as far as the floor. He laid on the carpet, his head on a pile of laundry for most of the day. He just wanted to sleep but he couldn't. His own coughing and the heat under his skin and the shaking kept him always half conscious and it was torture.

He didn't really remember getting back into bed. He _did_ remember calling Leon, vaguely. But he didn't remember asking Leon to come over. So he wasn't sure what to do when he saw Leon in his doorway.

"You'll get sick," he said, by way of deterrent. Leon came into his bedroom anyway.

"Shut up," he said. "Just...just give me a minute to wade through this mess."

Merlin might have laughed at that, if he wasn't in so much pain.

"It's cold," he said quietly. Leon huffed, and Merlin felt the bed dip at his back.

"No it isn't. You're running a fever. Come here."

Merlin made a noise in protest when Leon turned him over. Lifted him carefully by the back of his head and to Merlin's utter shock, pressed his cheek against Merlin's cheek.

Before Merlin could register what was happening, Leon jerked back, as if burned.

"Christ," he snapped, mostly to himself. "Merlin you crazy fuck, that isn't a fever that's an inferno. Hold still."

Merlin did, blinking up at Leon. Wondering.

Leon reached into his bag. Pulled out a hard matte box which he unzipped carefully. Inside he removed a thermometer. He held it to Merlin's forhead and waited for the beep.

"Shit," Leon said.

"How bad?" Merlin croaked. Leon glanced at him and back at the thermometer.

"Bad. You go up any higher and I'm going to have to take you to hospital."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest.

"No buts Merlin," Leon snapped.

Merlin's head lolled a little. His blue eyes were hazy and Leon didn't like the way they were tracking. As if he couldn't focus them.

"Okay," Merlin whispered. He'd never heard Leon sound like that before.

"Alright you need to sit up," Leon said, already putting his hands beneath Merlin's shoulders.

"I can't," Merlin breathed, his grip weak on the shoulder of Leon's leather jacket. Leon hesitated. Looked him over.

Merlin wasn't being petulant. He was dizzy and a little disoriented, and he was worried that if he moved the pain in his head would redouble, like it had when he'd stood up to find his painkillers. He didn't want to cry in front of Leon like this.

"Take a deep breath," Leon said gently.

Merlin did, as much as he was able. As he exhaled, Leon slowly pulled him upright, until he was leaning against the broader man, his cheek pressed into the cool leather of his jacket. Merlin swallowed thickly, but it didn't hurt and that was good. Leon kept a hand on his back, let him rest there, boneless, while he used his free hand to remove a silver package from the black box with the thermometer inside.

"Tell me what's wrong," Leon said. Merlin did. When he was finished Leon ripped open the silver packet with his teeth.

"Alright," Leon said, ripping open more tiny sealed packages as he went. "Any allergies to medications? Anything else I should know about?"

Merlin shook his head, bumping Leon's chin.

"Right then. Take these," he handed Merlin three pills, one enormous capsule and and two smaller ones. Merlin recognized the two similar pills as painkillers.

"What's this?" He asked. Leon was reaching into his bag. Producing a half pint of orange juice. He twisted the cap off.

"Relenza," he said. "Don't ask me what it is. Elyan made the call."

Merlin stared at the pills in his palm for a moment longer before swallowing them all and accepting the orange juice from Leon.

"You called Elyan?" Merlin said. His voice was hoarse, and whisper soft. Leon let him rest against his shoulder while he packed the medications away.

"I'm not a doctor, of course I called Elyan."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, I did. Now tell me where your sweats are."

Merlin pointed vaguely at a dresser under the window. Leon helped him lay back down and he immediately curled into a ball again while Leon rummaged around in his drawers.

"I don't see any sweatpants Merlin, if I find any sex toys in here so help me God..."

Merlin barked out a surprised laugh, it turned into a coughing fit, devolving into a heavy hoarse hacking noise that made Leon wince.

"Sorry," Merlin said when he'd caught his breath. "Bottom drawer."

Leon found the sweatpants and threw them at Merlin unceremoniously.

"Put those on."

It was slow, but Merlin managed to get the heavy flannel sweats up past his hips while Leon picked approximately seventeen hundred blankets up off the floor.

"Got enough covers, Balinor?"

"No."

Leon snorted. He couldn't really argue with that. He laid out the blankets over Merlin one by one, until he was just a lump in a pile. But Merlin had made a small noise in gratitude, so Leon didn't make fun of him for it.

"Hang in there for a minute," Leon said quietly. "I'm just going to go into the kitchen to get you a few things."

Merlin made another tiny noise from beneath the blankets. He was so muffled that Leon almost didn't hear him.

"You're coming back?"

Leon paused in the doorway.

"Yeah Merlin," he said softly. "I'm coming back."

* * *

Leon leaned on the counter, his phone against his ear as he went through the refrigerator, putting things away, and waiting for the electric kettle to boil.

"He's bad, Elyan," Leon said quietly, pouring a glass of water from the filtered pitcher Gwen kept on the counter. "What if it isn't the flu?"

"What was his temp?" Elyan said.

"39.4," Leon said.

There was a long pause. But when Elyan answered he was calm, and it gave Leon the space to breathe.

"There's only so many common illnesses that raise temperatures in adults that high," Elyan was saying. "Flu, Bronchitis and Pneumonia are usually the culprits. If his temperature continues going up, forget the meds and just get him to Emergency. Anything over 40."

"Yeah, I remember," Leon was saying. "Will the meds you gave me help if it's bronchitis and not the flu?"

"No," Elyan replied. "But the ibuprofen will, marginally. There's not much to be done for bronchitis, unfortunately."

Leon made a frustrated noise. "Alright. Thanks."

"Keep us posted," Elyan answered.

"Will do."

He hung up the phone. Ran a hand over his face and then got back to work. Merlin needed fluids and he needed them consistently. He didn't think Merlin was in any state to eat anything, but that could wait. So he brought the water and the entire bottle of orange juice and a cup of tea with him back into Merlin's room.

He set the cups on a side table, and then getting up on Merlin's bed with him, he braced Merlin's shaking body with his legs as he leaned back against the headboard.

Merlin curled up tighter. Pulled the blankets close around his nose.

"Can you drink some water Merlin?" Leon said.

To his surprise, Merlin turned over, and bleary eyed, reached across Leon's lap to try and take the cup himself. But the one he reached for was the tea.

"Easy, that's still hot," Leon warned him. But Merlin closed his fingers around the mug all the same.

"I can't get warm," Merlin said. He was frustrated and, Leon thought, on the verge of tears. "It's too cold."

He was still shivering, badly. Leon knew from a different kind of experience that eventually those tremors would start to cause real pain for Merlin. Maybe they already had.

Merlin drank the tea slowly. Leon watched him as he did. It was a little messy, because his hands were shaking, but otherwise fine.

"You're running a high fever, mate," he said. "I promise you're not cold."

"It still feels cold," Merlin coughed. It lasted for a long time, and Leon watched him struggle with it before switching out the tea for the water glass.

Merlin couldn't get it down. He coughed so hard the water spilled on the bed, and Leon had to take the cup away from him. He pulled Merlin up without giving it much thought. Pressed Merlin's head gently down between his shoulders with his broad hand on the back of Merlin's hot neck.

"Arms up," he said quietly over Merlin's coughing.

Merlin put his elbows up on Leon's shoulders. Pressed the top of his head into Leon's chest. Laced his fingers across the back of his head. He kept coughing, hard, for another minute or so, but he was starting to breathe through it. He was pulling in sharp, tight gasps as he coughed. Leon kept his hand on the back of Merlin's neck. Waited him out.

Finally, finally Merlin pulled his arms back. Sat straighter. His voice was breaking, but he wasn't coughing anymore.

"Water?" He rasped. Leon gave him the glass back.

Merlin drank, wincing. And then eased himself back down to the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. He was breathing hard, and the sound grated against his ribcage. Even Leon could hear it.

"You don't have to stay here Leon," he whispered.

"You're lucky I don't hit the incapacitated."

Merlin lifted his arm a little. Gave Leon a look.

"Do you want me to go?" Leon said seriously.

It was one thing to offer to be there for a friend, but he wouldn't force it on him. He imagined Merlin had just about enough of that, in his lifetime.

Merlin turned his head away, and even though he still had his eyes covered with his arm, Leon got the impression that for the first time since he'd arrived, Merlin was genuinely embarrassed to be seen.

"No," he admitted quietly.

Leon let out a breath through his nose. Leaned back against the headboard.

"Then stop telling me to leave. I'm not going anywhere, Merlin."

Merlin pulled in a harsh breath. The hand he had draped over his eyes clenched into a fist. Leon pretended not to notice that Merlin's cheeks were wet, when he finally dropped his arm.

* * *

For a while, Merlin slept. Leon made some instant noodles. Watched a football game on Merlin's TV. Checked his emails. Fell asleep on the couch. He woke abruptly to the sound of his phone alarm going off. He looked at the time. Rubbed his eyes.

He picked himself up and walked to Merlin's room, rubbing the back of his neck, in his socks and his black jeans and his v-neck t-shirt. He should have brought something more comfortable to wear.

The silver chain around his neck clinked gently against his breast bone. He pressed it flat under his palm as he neared Merlin's room. St. Michael's medal, and the Welsh Cross. They were battered and scuffed and a piece of shrapnel had cracked the medal a long time ago in another life, on a battlefield where Arthur had thrown himself at Percival, knocking him out of the line of an IED blast. It was that blast that had cracked his medal, leaving a gouge in the silver over the face of the demon under St. Michael's spear. He ran the pad of his finger along the crack. Then he opened the bedroom door.

Merlin was coughing again, turning over, frustrated. He looked worse. Even in the dim light his face looked flushed, and his hair was damp with sweat.

"Time for your meds, Balinor," Leon said gently. "Sit up for me."

Merlin groaned, but did his best. He managed to get up on one elbow. Leon handed him the water glass as Merlin threw back the pills in his palm.

He had barely swallowed them before he slid back down to the bed. Leon pressed his hand absently to Merlin's forehead. Still really hot. And sweaty.

Merlin flinched, but otherwise made no protest.

Leon felt Merlin's pillows next. They were damp.

"You got a linen closet somewhere?"

Merlin frowned, peeling his eyes open to look up at Leon.

"What?"

"A linen closet. You have other pillow cases?"

Leon waited for Merlin to explain it to him. Then he left the room.

When he came back Merlin was blowing his nose and then abruptly made a sound like a yelp that sent Leon running for the bed. He dropped the pillow cases in his hands and tilted Merlin's head back, noting that one of Merlin's eyes was squeezed shut, and the other still hazy from the fever. And his nose was bleeding.

"Keep your head back," Leon said. "This is gonna suck for a minute, that's going to drain into your throat. Do me a favor and don't cough. This is a new shirt. I wasn't planning to wash any blood out of it for at least a week."

Merlin hissed when Leon put pressure on his sinuses with his thumbs, trying to stem the blood flow. He tilted his head but Leon held him between his broad hands, one of his knees on the bed.

"I know," he whispered, frowning. "I know. You're alright. I've got you, Merlin."

They got through it, in the end. But there was blood on the sheets now, and on Merlin's face.

"Think you could stand in the shower on your own?" Leon said, pulling Merlin up off the bed under his arms. Merlin was listless, and he swayed before Leon set him on the floor.

"Yeah," Merlin said. Leon didn't believe him, but he pulled Merlin back up to his feet anyway.

"What the fuck do you have under that hoodie," Leon grunted, finally getting Merlin's arm around his shoulders. "Chainmail?"

Merlin coughed, but he was laughing too.

"Just me," he said softly.

"Well put me in touch with your personal trainer," Leon said, flipping the bathroom light on. "You must be all muscle under there."

Merlin was smiling distantly when Leon let him down to sit on the toilet. But he was shaking again. Leon eyed him as he turned the taps, then checked the water.

"Take it slow you nutter."

Merlin nodded, and watched him go.

While Merlin cleaned himself up, Leon changed the sheets over. Kicked Merlin's scattered laundry into a manageable pile. Made more room on the side table and took the empty glasses back to the kitchen to be refilled. His eyes were burning. He checked his watch. Four A.M.

When Merlin was in a fresh set of sweats and a thermal undershirt, and back underneath the covers, Leon made him drink more orange juice before he got into the bed.

"Shove over. You always take up so much space for a twig?"

"You said I was muscular," Merlin groused, making room for the bigger man.

"I said you must have muscle. There's a difference."

Settling down, Leon crossed his legs at the ankle, and set his laptop on his thighs. He booted it up, and remembered a second too late to turn down the brightness. Merlin covered his eyes, coughing, as Leon typed.

"What's that?" He asked.

"A movie. You ever see The Heist?"

Merlin shook his head.

"I'll keep the volume low. You can watch if you can't sleep. Not too much longer before you need those meds again."

Merlin sniffed pathetically, checking his nose.

"Did it bleed again in the shower?"

"Yeah," Merlin admitted. "Is that normal?"

"Pretty normal. You probably dislodged the clot that stopped the bleeding."

Merlin scrunched up his nose.

"What?" Leon teased. "You asked."

He started the movie, sitting up against the headboard. But in the end, it was Leon who fell asleep, not Merlin. Merlin watched the movie with interest, his cheek pressed against Leon's hip, drawing as much warmth as he could from the bigger man. Buried beneath his blankets.

Merlin was shaking still. But it didn't seem as bad, with Leon's solid, steady weight on the bed with him. He looked up when he heard Leon snoring, taking in his folded arms, his head tilted to one shoulder.

In the dark, Merlin memorized Leon's wild blonde hair and his scruffy beard and sharp features. Wondered, not for the first time, if they were friends.

He thought, it would be nice to have Leon for a friend.

"I'm not being paid to be here, Merlin," Leon said, his voice heavy with sleep.

Merlin went very still.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"You did," Leon said. He propped his arm on Merlin's head, and rested his cheek against his fist.

"Oy," Merlin protested weakly.

"Quiet," Leon said. "This is the good part."

Merlin shook his head. Leon laughed and sat up again. Rested his hand on Merlin's neck.

"I'm tired, Merlin," he said after the noise from the movie had died down. For a moment, Merlin didn't reply. Leon sounded half asleep again, and he wondered if he meant it literally, or if he meant something else.

"I'll be okay," Merlin whispered.

Leon's head dipped back to his shoulder. He slept and so did Merlin. They both slept through the next alarm Leon had set.

The next day, Merlin's fever was still too high, and Leon was worried it was because they'd slept through his medicine check. Somehow, it was all worse. Merlin barely spoke to him, he seemed always only half-conscious, and only slept quietly if Leon was sitting on the bed with him. If he left him alone to shower or eat, Merlin would toss, and Leon would return to him, laying as he had when Leon found him, alone in the middle of an empty bed, all the blankets on the floor.

Leon lost track of time. He laid for long hours with his hand on Merlin's back, measuring the rise and the fall of his breathing. Pressed his fingers into Merlin's collar, to gage the heat coming off his skin.

On Monday, that was where Elyan found them when he entered the apartment. Leon laying on top of Merlin's blankets. Merlin sleeping with his nose buried in Leon's back.

There were instant noodle cups everywhere. Empty yogurt cups. Cans of ginger ale. Elyan reached up to pull the hood from his sweatshirt down, and then knocked very softly on the doorjam.

Leon's eyes came open instantly. He didn't move, but his gaze slid to the other soldier, and for a split second, Elyan recognized that Leon didn't immediately know where he was.

Elyan stepped back from the door, and waited for Leon to follow. He did after a moment, silent in his socked feet, and closed the door behind him. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he hadn't shaved in days. His t-shirt was a wrinkled mess.

They walked into the kitchen where Leon turned on the faucet in the kitchen sink and drank directly from the tap before spitting and straightening to wipe his mouth.

Elyan lifted a duffle bag he'd brought with him.

"I brought you some clothes," he said.

"Thanks."

Leon still hadn't turned to face him. He was leaning on the sink, staring at the wall.

"How is he?"

"Fever's broke," Leon said absently. "I'll be back at the manor in a few hours. Gwen will be home soon."

"Arthur wants you to take the day."

"I've taken three," Leon said.

"No, you haven't."

At that, Leon dropped his head. Elyan set the bag down at his feet.

"Take the day," he said again.

"Yeah," Leon replied softly. "Sure."

"You did good," Elyan told him. "Merlin will be okay."

"It was just the flu," Leon said, without much vehemence. "Of course he will be."

Elyan didn't rise to that bait. They both knew Leon's mood had nothing to do with Merlin, or the flu. It was about that day, when the IED had gone off, and Leon had been in a coma for seventy-two hours, and he'd missed the return leave call they'd put out to his unit, when his brother aspirated fluid into his lungs after a routine surgery, and died in recovery. Pneumonia, most likely. The last call Leon had recieved from him, he'd sounded good. He said he was coming home.

Elyan had been with Leon's unit that day. He'd watched Arthur shield Percival from the blast. Watched Leon's body and Gwaine's meeting in midair. He remembered the sound of his own head hitting the side of their SUV. Bedivere covering them with his side arm, the only one Elyan remembered still standing after the initial explosion. The smell of gasoline.

They'd all come to terms with that day.

All of them, except Leon. When he wasn't near to one of them, Arthur or Gwaine, Percival or Bedivere, he didn't sleep. And although his heart was in the right place, it was likely Leon hadn't been prepared for what it would do to him, caring for Merlin.

They didn't speak anymore after that. Elyan sat at the kitchen table, reading a weathered paperback, while Leon cleaned up and changed. Packed up his bags. Elyan was surprised when he looked up to see Merlin shuffle into the kitchen, carrying mugs of tea awkwardly, wrapped in a blanket.

Elyan set down his book.

"Sorry for the intrusion," Elyan said. Merlin shook his head absently, setting the mugs in the sink.

"No intrusion," he said. His voice was hoarse, but he sounded clearer to Elyan, who had an ear for medical distress.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," Merlin said, sinking into a chair across from him and resting his head on the table. Elyan chuckled.

"Glad to hear it."

Leon came back into the kitchen, wearing his heavy boots and his leather jacket. Elyan noticed his Saint medal and his brother's cross were tucked into his shirt now, out of sight.

Leon tossed the remaining packets of meds on the table in front of Merlin.

"Every four hours for three more days, even if you feel fine."

"Mmhmm," Merlin said. Elyan swore he saw Leon's eyebrow twitch.

"I'll put you through the ringer if you don't, Balinor, you know I will."

"How are you going to do that?" Merlin said flippantly. "You're just a delicate flower."

If he'd been drinking anything at that moment, Elyan would have spit it across the table.

Leon tousled Merlin's hair affectionately.

"Try me," he said.

Merlin snorted.

"Thank you, Leon," he said softly.

Elyan stood.

"Take care Merlin."

"You too."

They left without looking back, and Leon locked the door behind him. Checked it once and then followed Elyan down to the car port. They separated briefly, each heading down a different alley to retrieve their cars, until down the road they merged seamlessly into traffic, Leon's Charger in the lead, Elyan's white Mercedes SUV following behind. It was snowing again, moderately, and it was barely three in the morning, so the roads were blessedly dark and quiet, if wet. Elyan followed Leon back to Cavendish in silence, not bothering to turn on his radio, lost in thought.

They parked in separate garages, and entered the manor together. It was quiet. Gwaine was at the Estate with Arthur.

Still, they said nothing. And they wouldn't.

Elyan locked up behind them. Leon disappeared into one of the smaller rooms down the hall. When Elyan entered, Leon was laying on the twin bed against the wall, still in his jeans, arms crossed. His back was to Elyan.

Elyan crossed the room and sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed, where Leon could see him, and opened his book.

For a long time, it was silent in the room, except for the turning of Elyan's pages, gently in the dark.

"What are you reading?" Leon said.

"The Power of Myth, by Joseph Campbell."

"What's it about?"

Elyan looked down at the book.

"I don't know yet," he said honestly. "Philosophy, I suppose."

"Is it any good?"

Elyan smiled sadly down at the words in his lap. And then he started to read.

"All the gods, all the heavens, all the world, are within us. They are magnified dreams, and dreams are manifestations in image form of the energies of the body in conflict with each other. That is what myth is..."

He read out loud well into the early morning, long after Leon had finally fallen asleep. He read and kept reading, because he knew that Leon could still hear him somehow, and if he stopped, Leon would wake.

* * *

Given how the last week had gone, Leon wasn't exactly ecstatic when Merlin called him out of the blue again before the start of his shift.

"What is it this time?" Leon said without a greeting when he picked up the call. "Sinus infection? Shingles?"

"Shingles?" Merlin echoed. "Don't be an ass, I'm fine. Can you pick me up early tonight?"

"How early is early?"

"Half hour?"

"Yeah, that's no problem. I'll see you then."

He thumbed the call off. Checked his watch. When he made it to Merlin's apartment, he climbed the steel staircase, hands in his pockets. Merlin opened the door for him before he'd made it to the top. He was surprised to see Merlin wasn't in his boots or his coat. He clearly meant for Leon to come inside.

He entered quickly, frowning.

"I thought you wanted to leave early?"

"I wanted you to come by early," Merlin clarified, walking into the apartment.

"Okay," Leon said, looking around with a shrug. "Here I am."

Merlin came back into the hall carrying a small envelope. He handed it to Leon.

"Here," was all he said.

Raising his eyebrow, Leon took the envelope and opened it. Inside were two tickets. He pulled them out so he could read them properly.

They were tickets to The Black Country Derby, football match one, between West Brom and the Wolves.

"I don't know a whole lot about football," Merlin was saying. "Elyan told me that's your team. West Bromwich Albion."

Leon glanced up at Merlin and back down to the tickets.

"Merlin..."

"I was hoping you'd let me take you," Merlin cut over him. "To thank you, for what you did."

Leon ran a hand over his mouth. He was thinking about how impossible it was to get a hold of tickets like these so late in the season, how Arthur was right, Merlin was surely a wizard because he was positive he'd never even mentioned football to him, and how his first instinct was to say no. Not because he didn't want to go, but because he had never been very comfortable accepting gifts from anyone. Simple as that.

"You didn't have to do this, Merlin," he hedged instead. Merlin shrugged.

"You didn't have to come back, when I told you to go home."

Leon was quiet at that.

"Do..." Merlin seemed to catch himself, when Leon looked back up. "Do you want to go?"

"Merlin, I've wanted to see this match in person since I was _twelve_ you little shit," he laughed, pulling Merlin into a headlock and messing up his hair good and proper. Merlin let him, shoving at Leon's face.

"Get off," Merlin was laughing. "Or I'll lay you out."

"Go on then," Leon grinned. "Let's see it."

"Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face," Merlin said.

Leon let him go, grinning from ear to ear. He held up the tickets as Merlin straightened and tried in vain to fix his hair.

"Make sure you have Jan sixteen off, or I'll take Percival instead."

"Please," Merlin said, turning to get his coat. "I'm taking you, remember?"

Merlin's back was turned as he pulled on his coat, so he didn't see Leon's playful grin, soften into an easy, gentle smile.

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I'll look forward to it."

Merlin turned to look at him over his shoulder, still buttoning up his coat.

"Me too," he said, flashing Leon with a winning smile.

 _Me too_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few parting thoughts here! 
> 
> The Easter Egg in this story is Elyan's Mercedes, which is a reference to the Arthurian Knight Elyan is based on, known as Sir Elyan the White. This name was given to knights to represent their great purity of character, their piousness and chivalry. Just as Sir Galahad, largely believed to be the kindest and most just of the knights of the round table, who would never raise a hand to another in anger, was also known as Sir Galahad, Whitehand. 
> 
> St. Michael is the patron Saint of soldiers. Traditionally he is depicted holding a spear and striking down a demon beneath his feet, his magnificent wings extended, a halo around his head. 
> 
> Now this is a bit of extrapolation on my part, but there was never, to my knowledge, a knight of the round table named Leon. There was a Sir Lionel, and his brother Sir Bors. This is what I am drawing on to build on Leon's back story. In almost all versions of Arthurian legends where Bors and Lionel are present, Bors is the one who survives and in one version, is the last knight living at the end of Arthur's war, and becomes the next King after Arthur's death. In the stories, Lionel is seen as the brash knight, full of youthful rage and the desire to see conflict in battle. During the quest for the Holy Grail, he is struck down by God himself for trying to kill his brother Bors in one such fit of rage.
> 
> What I took from these stories, was a habit for Leon to bottle up his emotions, to not properly face his PTSD and for feeling some measure of survivors guilt, when he thinks of his brother. For missing the opportunity to lay him to rest and seeing it as a judgement on his soul. The crack in his Saint medal is an echo of that. 
> 
> And finally, no, I did not make that football team up. The Black Country Derby is one of the oldest and most intense football matches in the UK. The rivalry between West Bromwich Albion (West Brom) and the Wolverhampton Wanderers (the Wolves) is legendary. I don't know that the matches would traditionally be played in January, I used this year's dates (which have been effected, as all things are at the moment, by COVID) because it fit the story better to have the match coming up sooner rather than later. I always imagined this story taking place at the end of October and into the next Spring, making this year's match dates ideal for this particular cut scene in Room Number Seven. 
> 
> As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading. 💋


	3. Snow - Webleedmadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon threatened to throw Merlin into a snowbank on the trip home from Camlan to London. Merlin didn't believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Please enjoy this little vignette requested by **Webleedmadness**. I hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff, and thank you for requesting such a fun wholesome scene to write! I love exploring this relationship, and I'm so happy that you all see to love it too. 💋

* * *

Merlin was half asleep when he got off the plane, so he didn't hear Leon come up behind him, before it was too late.

Leon grabbed him around the middle, making him gasp, and then, lifting him over his shoulder, began walking to the hanger bay where his Charger was parked.

"Hey!" Merlin said, objecting to being carried like a sack of potatoes. "Leon, what are you doing?"

Leon was unaffected. Merlin had to appreciate that while Leon was bracing Merlin's body over his shoulder, he was carrying Merlin's bag in the other. He was whistling.

"Leon!" Merlin said again, clinging to Leon's leather jacket. "It's icy, we're both going to fall."

"Just one of us," Leon said cheerfully, before tossing Merlin down, into the snow.

Merlin had just enough time to give a startled yelp as Leon let him go, before his body whumped, unceremoniously, into a snowbank outside of the hanger.

It was cold. The snow was deep but feather light, and it whooshed up into the air as Merlin sank in. He scrambled to pull himself up, but there wasn't anything to hold on to.

Leon was laughing. He laughed so hard he had to crouch down to Merlin's level, snow clinging to his lashes.

"What the fuck, Leon!" Merlin said, but he was laughing now too because he was stuck like an overturned crab and what a ridiculous feeling that was.

"I told you," Leon laughed. "I told you I would throw you into a snowbank."

"Okay," Merlin said grinning. "Okay, you win. Help me up."

Leon did.

As he pulled Merlin up from the snow, he was about to say something to the effect of, 'Hey Balinor, thanks for being a good sport', when Merlin shoved a hand down the back of his shirt, pressing a fistful of snow to his spine.

Leon _shrieked_.

Merlin cackled, dodging under Leon's arm as he jumped around trying to loosen the snow from his clothes.

"You are so dead," Leon gasped, and Merlin had the good sense to turn on his heel, and start running.

The little shit was fast, but Leon had better shoes on, and his footing on the wet ground was sure. As they rounded the hanger, Merlin laughing, he tackled Merlin into the snow.

Merlin shoved snow into his face. Leon sat on Merlin's chest and dumped an armful of snow on top of Merlin's head.

"I will bury you, I swear I will," Leon said, still laughing.

Merlin lifted his hips when Leon raised another two-handed pile of snow over his head to drop on top of Merlin. He wrapped his legs around Leon's middle and pulled Leon down into the snow on his back.

Leon made a sound that could only be described as _'Gah!'_ before falling backwards and dumping the snow in his arms on his own face as he went.

He sputtered, flailing for Merlin who was desperately trying to get out from under him, laughing so hard now there were tears freezing on his lashes.

"Truce!" Merlin sputtered, covering his face with his hands when it was clear he was trapped under the bigger man.

Leon pulled himself up over Merlin again, and was mercilessly dropping snow on top of him.

"Truce, Leon, you win!" Merlin laughed, hunching his shoulders with an indignant yelp when Leon pulled his coat back and shoved a handful of snow down his sweater.

Leon paused with another handful of snow at the ready.

"You said that last time," Leon said, breathless and grinning from ear to ear.

Merlin held up his hands fingertips pink from the cold now, grinning back.

"I surrender," he said, waving his hands a little to show they were empty. Leon lifted the snowball, his other hand still fisted in the collar of Merlin's coat.

Merlin shrank underneath him, but he was laughing still.

"I'll get you an egg sandwich at Kaboola!" Merlin said when it looked like Leon might shove more snow down his sweater.

Leon dropped the snow on the ground and stood, brushing himself off.

"Why didn't you say so?" He grinned, reaching down to help Merlin up.

"You're one gobshite, Leon, you know that?" He said, ruffling the snow out of his hair.

Leon slapped Merlin on the back, directing him back to the Charger and where they'd dropped their bags.

"That I am, Merlin, that I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note here - Kaboola is a reference to 'Kaboola Kitchen' a delightful little sandwich shop in Brixton, which I highly recommend for breakfast sammies ✧*｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*｡


	4. Sláinte - springty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is back on holiday from his first year at Coventry, he meets Lancelot and Gwen at a local pub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to **springty** for requesting such an interesting scene to write! I've had some little snippets of things bouncing around in my head about the years before the start of Room Number Seven, and what Merlin's life looked like back then. So this was an absolute joy to write. I hope you enjoy this little glimpse at Lancelot...and don't worry, this isn't the last you've seen of him just yet. 🤗💋

* * *

Merlin nearly spilled his beer when Gwen threw her arms around him from behind. He laughed, turning, taking her by the waist and picking her up briefly.

Lancelot was grinning over her shoulder.

"Hey you!" Merlin said, happy to finally see her.

"You did it!" Gwen yelled as Merlin set her back on her feet. The pub wasn't much full yet, but there was a band playing behind them.

Lancelot took him in a headlock when he'd let go of Gwen, and kissed him cartoonishly on the top of his head.

"Merlin you scamp! Welcome back!"

Merlin shoved him off laughing.

"I got the first round," he said as Gwen and Lance took off their coats and chose a seat at the table.

"We'll get the rest," Gwen called over the table. "Tell us about your first year at Warwick!"

They raised their glasses, Merlin laughed again.

After they'd had a few more drinks, and they'd talked at length about Merlin's move to the dormitories at Coventry, how Gwen and Lance promised to visit this year, an easy silence lapsed as Lance returned with more pints.

Merlin eyed the two of them suspiciously.

"What is it?" He said when the music had faded for a moment between songs. He recognized the next one. A slow song he was fond of playing on the piano for his mum. The Girl With the Black Velvet Band.

"Nothing," Gwen said. "I'm just so happy for you, Merlin."

He sipped his beer.

"Lies," he said. Lancelot snorted into his cup.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Tonight is about you Merlin, anything I have to say can wait."

"Alright, alright," Merlin said, lifting his hands. "Hang on, I haven't graduated or anything. I might fail out, you don't know."

"Please, Merlin," Gwen said. Lancelot jerked his thumb at Gwen.

"I'm with the lady on this one," he said, grinning. "If you fail out, I'll eat my bike."

"Tell me something good," Merlin said. "What's up?"

Gwen looked at Lancelot. The two of them shared a silent conversation while Merlin sipped his beer. And then, to his utter shock, Lancelot reached into his wallet and produced a ring.

Merlin watched, stunned, as Lance carefully slid it onto Gwen's finger. She lifted her hand. Wiggled her fingers.

Merlin exploded up out of his chair, grinning like a fool, and fairly lifted Gwen half out of her seat, hugging her hard.

"Congratulations!" He shouted in her ear, making her laugh. Lancelot accepted the hug Merlin gave him next, rocking a little back and forth.

"I can't believe you were going to wait to tell me you ass," Merlin said. Lancelot grinned sheepishly, glancing at Gwen.

"You're still the first to know," he said.

"Merlin," Gwen said, tugging him back down to his seat at the table. "Will you play our first dance?"

Merlin sat heavily, looking from Gwen to Lancelot and back again.

"Are you sure?" He breathed. Lance slapped him on the back, taking his seat again as well.

"We wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

Merlin smiled, looked down at his beer.

"Merlin," Gwen said, reaching across the table to lift his face in her warm hands. "Why are you crying?"

He laughed a little, putting his hand over hers. He could feel her engagement ring, a navette, elongated and pointed at the ends, filled in with two pear shaped diamonds that caught the light and sent shimmering patterns across the back of her hand.

"I'm just so happy for you," he said earnestly. "I'd love to play your first dance."

Gwen leaned across the table and kissed him on the mouth, just as Lancelot leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.

Merlin laughed, wiped his face. Then he cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted,

"Next round's on me! My best friend's just got engaged!"

The bar erupted around them. Gwen laughed. Lancelot lifted his hand to wave at the rest of the bar. There were glasses being raised.

"Sláinte!" Everyone was shouting. The band broke into a jig.

Merlin laughed deeply as Gwen was pulled up from her seat by some of the women nearby, who gave her shots and kissed her on the cheek.

"Any ideas what you want me to play?" Merlin said, finishing his drink. Lance shook his head with a grin.

"I'll leave that to Gwen," he said affectionately. "Something romantic, I hope."

"You're such a sap," Merlin said.

Lancelot laughed, throwing his head back.

Merlin's gaze softened as he looked at Lancelot, who was watching Gwen now as she made her way back to them, her face flushed, her eyes bright in the dim pub. She was looking at Lancelot, and when she did she was radiant. Merlin's chest ached at the sight.

He hoped that someday, someone would look at him, the way Lancelot looked at Gwenevere.

* * *

The next day, Merlin waited for Lancelot outside of Avalon, leaning against the back of the old brick building, thumbing through his phone. Now that he was back on holiday, he could pick up shifts again before his next term started.

He was thinking about tuning the piano in his mum's studio when he heard the roar of Lancelot's bike in the parking lot. He looked up, waving as Lance passed him, slowing a little to point excitedly at the new motorcycle. A Dublin Triumph, Street...something or other. Gwen had tried to explain it to him, but motorcycles were over his head.

He gave Lance a double thumbs up. Merlin didn't have to know anything about motorcycles to know the bike looked really good on Lance. Matte black and sharp, aerodynamic lines.

He grinned when Lancelot jogged up to him. Gave him a hug.

"Sorry I made you wait," Lance said.

"No problem," Merlin said, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder. "I got here early."

"So what have we got for this evening?" Lance said, clipping his helmet to to his backpack as they headed for the door.

Merlin thumbed open his phone.

"Mmmm....a few regulars. Nothing too exciting. And looks like a new client request has gone through so we'll be in room thirteen at the end of the night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Merlin said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Calls himself Sigan."

"Interesting name," Lancelot said, holding the door open for Merlin. "Sounds kind of familiar."

Merlin snorted, stepping inside.

"Never heard of anyone named Sigan," Merlin said. It didn't seem to him like the kind of name you'd easily forget.

Lancelot shrugged, following at his shoulder, he and Merlin disappearing into the dimly lit hotel, the heavy steel door swinging shut behind them.


	5. Grief - NicAnBr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon shows up unexpectedly at Merlin's flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not go entirely as planned. The request from the lovely **NicAnBr** was for more Leon and Merlin, and I had entirely intended to write some more fluff and friendship for you to snack on while I get the next few chapters rolling on Room Number Seven. But there are times when I am not responsible for what comes of an idea. Sometimes, like this time, the scene writes itself and I am helpless but to record it for you. 
> 
> So please enjoy this very sad, tender moment between two young men who are forever grieving for the people who they used to be. And if you'd like me to write you something sweeter, I would entirely understand. Thank you as always for your lovely comments, your interest and your inquiries. 💋

* * *

> Can I come by tonight?

Merlin frowned down at the text from Leon. Glanced at the clock. Ten to midnight.

> I need a place to crash.

Merlin typed back, wondering if Leon was drunk. He'd never seen him wasted, he'd never seen _any_ of Arthur's security team drink, now that he thought on it. But it could be the explanation for Leon's mistake. Had he been drinking and forgot he could spend the night at Cavendish? He had a room at Arthur's Estate as well.

> Was this meant for me?
> 
> Is this Balinor?
> 
> Yeah, it's Merlin.
> 
> Then yeah, it was for you.

He didn't sound drunk. His texts were coming through like they would any other day.

> Sure, come on over. Gwen is at work.
> 
> Okay, thanks.

Merlin set his phone down and rolled out of bed. Put on some pants and a hoodie. Shuffled into the kitchen with a yawn. He set his electric kettle on. Took his time fishing out some clean mugs and some tea. He picked a teal green tin with a gold label on it from his mother's most recent delivery to him and Gwen - _Moroccan Mint_.

He leaned on the counter while the kettle boiled. Flipped idly through his phone, not really interested in anything he was seeing. Wondered idly if he should get Arthur anything for Christmas.

He was just setting the kettle off it's stand when there was a knock at the door. He headed to the front room and opened it, stepping aside to let Leon in. He moved past Merlin quickly, his hood up beneath his leather jacket. His shoulders were wet. It must have been raining.

Merlin shut the door and bolted it while Leon took off his shoes.

"Hey, I made some tea if - "

Merlin stopped dead.

Leon's face was a wreck. His left eye was black and swollen and there was blood on his mouth from his nose and a split lip. There was a cut above his right eye.

"Jesus Christ!" He said, pulling Leon's hood back. Leon flinched but didn't object.

Merlin was aware he sounded hysterical but he'd seen Leon come out of a three-on-one fight unscathed. He didn't understand what he was looking at.

"Sorry," Leon said. "I can go."

Merlin shoved him back away from the door. "Kitchen. _Now_."

Leon went.

Merlin stood in the hallway for a moment watching Leon seat himself at the table. He sat slowly and didn't lean back on the chair as was his custom. He was in a lot of pain then.

Merlin went for his first aid kit under the sink in the bathroom.

Leon was staring at the table, not really seeing it, Merlin thought, when he came back with his first aid kit. It wasn't anything like the ones he'd seen Elyan using before, but it would have to do. He set it down and then went to the sink to wet a face cloth.

"Did you win?" He said, ringing out the cloth.

Leon glanced at him and then back down at the table when Merlin turned.

"Yeah," he said.

Merlin didn't ask him anymore questions after that.

He pulled his chair up close to Leon's their knees touching, and wiped down Leon's face, so that he could see the extent of the damage. The blood had dried already and there was a lot of it. It took some time. Merlin wondered how long Leon had waited to call him.

He tilted Leon's head back when his face was clean, checked his nose with the pads of his thumbs. Pressed them into Leon's brows, looking for breaks.

Leon hissed when he felt around the cut over his eye. Tried to pull his head out of Merlin's grip.

"I know..." Merlin muttered absently. "Just a nasty cut. It doesn't look like you hit it hard enough to break anything."

"I could have told you that," Leon said, maybe a little petulantly.

"Would you have?"

Leon was silent. Merlin went back to work, using gauze and alcohol to clean his mouth and his brow. The bruising around his eye. Leon winced but didn't protest. Merlin noticed he still hadn't taken his hands out of the pockets of his jacket.

He used butterfly bandaids on Leon's eye, but he wasn't sure it would be enough.

"You should have Elyan look at this," Merlin said gently. "I'm not a doctor."

Leon grunted in acknowledgement but otherwise said nothing.

"Alright let me see your hands," he said after it had become clear Leon had no intention of responding further.

Leon hesitated, and then pulled them free of his coat. His knuckles were torn up, and bruised. Merlin stood and brought Leon back a mug of tea, and then guided one of his hands to hold the mug.

"Here. This will help," he said gently. Then took Leon's other hand and began cleaning it, as he had done his face.

"I didn't want to go to Cavendish to see Elyan like this. Arthur is there tonight."

Merlin glanced up at him, and then back down at Leon's hand.

"You don't want to see Arthur?" Merlin prompted gently.

"Not like this."

Merlin didn't pry. Leon was watching him out of the corner of his eye, letting his hand relax on the mug of tea.

"Do you think you broke anything?" Merlin said instead, tapping the bruised back of his hand.

Leon shook his head. "No, it's just cut up."

Merlin nodded. Started wrapping a gauze bandage around his hand. Leon watched him a moment longer before, unprompted, he said,

"My brother died while I was in Afganistan with Arthur."

Merlin finished bandaging his hand and guided it to the mug of tea before taking his other one to clean. Leon had told him as much before, so he wasn't sure what to say.

"I should have been there," Leon continued. "It was stupid. He'd gone in for surgery, and I'd just talked to him on the phone. He'd come down with something in recovery. Pneumonia, most likely. But he was a healthy guy. Young. No one was worried. Least of all me. Bors wasn't the kind of guy who got put down by being sick. He once hiked Cader Idris...this...huge beautiful mountain trail in Wales? With a fever of 38C."

Leon laughed out loud and Merlin kept his eyes on Leon's hand as he bandaged it, feeling a weight in his chest at Leon's words.

"But he aspirated fluid into his lungs in a hospital bed I guess. I didn't get the call. I was in a coma."

Merlin finished off the bandage. Cupped both of Leon's hands around the hot mug and said quietly.

"Take a drink, Leon."

Leon stared at Merlin for a long time before he finally lifted the mug to drink. Merlin put his first aid kit back together. Didn't crowd Leon by staring at him, waiting for him to continue. But he did keep his knees touching Leon's under the table. Waited him out.

"He would have been your age, yesterday," Leon said.

Merlin stopped moving his hands. Looked up at Leon. Covered in bruises. Looking lost.

"I'm so so- "

"Don't say you're sorry," Leon said suddenly. Viciously. It startled Merlin into total silence. "You didn't know him. What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"

Merlin felt his heart ring to a thunderous stop in his chest. Leon had never spoken to him like that, ever. It made his blood rush in his ears.

"Why don't you tell me why you came here," Merlin said, his tone cold. He didn't mean it to be. It was his habit, when he was startled. Anxious. "Instead of shouting and bleeding all over my kitchen?"

Leon visibly deflated, sagging over the mug of tea Merlin had given him. Running a bandaged hand through his dirty hair.

"I'm not mad at you," he whispered. "Everyone always says they're sorry. Everyone is always sorry but there's nothing they can do."

"Do what, Leon?"

"Bring him _back_ ," Leon said to the table, his voice breaking.

Merlin had to look at the ceiling at the raw admission. But he couldn't cry for Leon yet. Hesitantly, he put his hand on Leon's arm.

"Tell me about him," Merlin whispered.

Leon sniffed loudly. Took a deep swallow from his tea.

"Oh, he was a good kid. Worked in Search and Rescue. Loved dogs. Good mechanic too. Always getting into fights. But he never asked me to bail him out. He learned to fight from me."

Merlin laughed a little.

"He must have been good then."

"Yeah," Leon said. "He was."

"What did he look like?" Merlin asked gently.

"Like a punk," Leon laughed. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Removed a tattered photograph and handed it to Merlin.

Merlin took the creased picture gingerly. It was soft around the edges from long wear and tear. It must have been taken right after Leon had graduated training. He was in his dress uniform, his face uncharacteristically clean shaven. He had a younger man in a headlock, and was kissing the side of his face.

The other man in the photo, Bors, was looking directly at the camera, one eye closed, both hands wrapped around Leon's arm, holding him in a headlock. They were both laughing. He was skinnier than Leon, built less like a lion, and more like a wolf. All lean lines and golden eyes. That much he shared with Leon. But his hair was dark, at least from what Merlin could tell. It was shaved pretty close to his head, so Merlin couldn't be sure if it was naturally black or naturally dark brown. Around his neck was a thick silver chain and a Welsh cross, hanging over his tight tshirt. It looked old and well worn, the kind of thing a person might rub for comfort, tarnishing the silver over the years. Inadvertently smoothing out the details over time. Merlin had seen Leon wearing that cross, over his Saint medal.

He had a radiant smile, Merlin thought.

He looked...they both looked, happy. He tried to think of a time he'd ever seen Leon look the way he did in the picture. He wasn't sure he had.

"Well," Merlin said softly, sliding the picture back across the table to Leon. "If he was anything like you, I hope you don't mind me saying I'm sorry I never knew him."

Leon looked at the table, his blonde waves obscuring his face momentarily.

"He was better," Leon said. "It should have been me."

"Don't say that," Merlin murmured.

"That day," Leon said. "We were ambushed. There was an IED in the road and we had already exited the vehicle and when it went off it Gwaine and I would have been dead if we hadn't been crossing behind the SUV. Arthur threw himself on top of Percival. Elyan hit the open door of our ride. Cracked open his face. I ended up...I don't know how many yards away they said. Bedivere was the only one still standing when the dust settled."

Merlin listened, transfixed as Leon ran his hand under his nose. Sniffed again before continuing.

"Everyone knows an explosion is dangerous. What they don't tell you is that even the ones that don't hit you are too. There's this...massive pressure change in the immediate area. Everything around you just...expanding and expanding and expanding outward taking everything it grabs up with it. Your ears. Your lungs. Anything soft inside you could just _pop_ ," he snapped his fingers. "And it does. I wasn't breathing. I was unconscious. And on the other side of the fucking world my little brother was drowning in a hospital bed. If it had to be one of us it should have been me."

Merlin couldn't stop the emotion this time. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered. He gripped Leon's arm to stop him from interrupting. "Not about your brother, you're right. I didn't know him, and I can't bring him back. But I am sorry you've been carrying this, all this time. I'm sorry you didn't get to say goodbye."

Leon heaved suddenly, as if his lungs were attempting to expand out of his chest. His head was down, his hair again obscuring his eyes, but Merlin watched, unsure of what to do, as Leon's tears tracked down the sides of his nose. Fell soundlessly into his tea.

"He was going to save people," Leon said brokenly. "He had things to do. I just don't understand why it wasn't _me_."

"You save people too, Leon," Merlin said quietly.

Leon laughed humorlessly, still crying, looking down at his bandaged hands.

"No I don't," he said, wiping his nose again on his sleeve. "I never saved anyone in the desert. We barely saw actual combat. Now I watch cameras and check aerials and - "

"You saved me."

Leon lifted his head a fraction, but he didn't look at Merlin. The silence between them was stretching on, sliding into the horizon like cooling treacle. Sticky and impossible to retrieve. But Merlin tried, all the same.

"Twice," he added. His hand felt hot on the outside of Leon's leather coat.

"Twice?" He repeated, sounding genuinely confused.

"Once in the alley," Merlin told him. "And once in room number seven."

Leon looked at him then. He looked awful. Eyes red, one of them black. Tear stained and uncertain. Merlin took a deep breath.

"It probably didn't look that bad," Merlin whispered, looking at his hand, gripping Leon's arm, unable to look him in the eye. "When you came back and undid the cuffs for me. But inside I felt like I was dying. Like I couldn't get enough air. I was sure I would suffocate right there on the floor even though I was free and he was gone. After Sigan...he just left me, and I was tied up and blindfolded and I couldn't get free. I was so desperate to get loose that I broke my own wrist trying. The defense used my medical records to try and prove I'd done the most damage to myself. And in a way, they were right."

"Merlin..."

He glanced up at Leon and then back down to his hand.

"I can't be left alone like that, anymore. If I am, the panic attacks are crippling. It never got any better, even with therapy. Because that day when he left me there, no one came. And then when the trial started, I had to listen to all of these defense witnesses...people who lived in my apartment building tell the Crown that they knew what I did for a living, so they all ignored me when I was screaming for help. They all waited for it to stop. And this one man...he lived two doors down from me on the same floor. He was always so nice when I'd see him in the hall. Waved and said his goodmornings. Smiled and offered me Happy Christmases. He said, that once the screaming stopped, he didn't think anything of it."

Merlin took a shuddering breath. "I think about what he said a lot. And when I was cuffed to that bed I couldn't breathe and I couldn't start yelling because what good would it do? It didn't help me, the first time."

Merlin finally lifted his head. He was crying now too, but he was smiling up at Leon who looked devastated, but held Merlin's gaze when he finished.

"But _you_ came back," Merlin whispered.

Leon closed his eyes. Let out a breath like he'd been punched. Then, surprising Merlin, he reached out and pulled him in, crushing Merlin into a hug.

"I'll do it again, Merlin," he said feircely. And Merlin had to swallow another wave of tears, entirely unrelated now to Leon's grief. "I'll do it every time."

"I know," Merlin said. He was still whispering, why he wasn't entirely sure. Afraid to raise his voice and spoil the moment. Afraid to hear the sound of his own water-logged words. "I know."

When Leon finally let him go, Merlin reached out hesitantly. Wiped Leon's face off with the heels of his hands.

"I think your brother would be proud of you," Merlin said. "At the very least, now he knows how lucky I am to have you as a friend."

Leon's face twisted at the words, but there were no more tears. After Merlin drew his hands back, he said,

"I'll find you some clothes, you should hop in the shower. Gwen will be home soon, and I don't want to make up a story about how we watched The Notebook together."

Leon barked out a laugh, and it sounded real and right. It made Merlin smile.

"Okay," he said, lifting himself from the chair gently. Merlin didn't rise with him, Leon knew where the towels were. But Leon turned before he'd entered the hall and said, very quietly,

"Thank you, Merlin."

And then he was gone.

Merlin stared at the spot where Leon had been. Then he stood to rinse out the mug of tea he'd left behind. Merlin listened to the shower start up, washed out the mug. Began setting first the cup on the drying rack. Then the tea tin back in the cupboard. Then the kettle back on it's stand. And like a clock winding down he suddenly stopped for a long moment and stared out the window of his apartment, at the haloed street lights and the orange glow they cast on the snowy sidewalks, and shadows on the pavement.

And then, Merlin lifted his hands to his face, and sank to the floor, and cried.

When they were both showered and dressed, Merlin lay in his bed, his nose pressed into Leon's back, and listened as Gwen entered the flat quietly and bolted the door. He felt Leon tense. Merlin said, half asleep,

"Just Gwen," by way of an explanation.

Felt Leon slowly relax.

And so did he.


	6. Grief Part II - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin brings Leon home after the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to happen, but after I posted the initial chapter this hilarious little snippet bounced into my head and it was too enjoyable not to write. So please enjoy this extra little bit of crack and thank you as always for reading. 💋

* * *

Arthur looked up from the round table in Cavendish, coming half-way to his feet when he saw Leon's face. When Merlin came through the door behind him, he jolted up the rest of the way. Gwaine lifted his eyebrows, standing up straighter from where he'd been leaning against the wall, talking to Arthur.

"Leon...?" Gwaine said.

But Leon was heading for the back rooms without sparing either of them a glance, leaving Merlin in the kitchen behind him.

"I'm fine. Oy," he stopped and pointed at Arthur, who blinked, looking at Leon's finger so close to his nose.

Leon pointed at Merlin.

"Marry him," he said.

Then he left.

Merlin made a choking noise, his entire face erupting, beet red now, his blue eyes wide.

"Leon!" He yelled.

Arthur looked at Gwaine who was staring after Leon's retreating form down the hall.

"What did he just say?"

Gwaine glanced at Arthur. Put the Blow Pop he'd been chewing on back in his mouth.

"He thinks you should marry Merlin."

Arthur blinked again.

"So do I," said Gwaine, clapping him on the shoulder before leaving to find Leon.

Merlin sputtered.

"Me too!" Percival shouted from another room.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind him Merlin covered his face, so embarrassed Arthur was sure he could feel the heat coming off his skin from the other side of the room.

"Tell me how you really feel!" Arthur yelled after them.

"Marry him!" They all shouted from opposite ends of the manor. Even Elyan, who was passing by the kitchen, heading toward the offices.

Merlin's face was so red by now that he was sure it would actually burn him.

"Merlin..." Arthur started. But Merlin gave a tiny noise, one that could only be described as a _squeek_ , and rushed past him, gripping his bag to his chest.

"I'll just be in my office if you need me!" He said over his shoulder, practically running down the hall.

Arthur listened to the door slam. The whole manor settling back into a quiet, peaceful hum around him.

"What just happened?!" He roared.


	7. Kinbaku - NicAnBr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin has something to negotiate with Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little (very long) scene is meant to take place sometime between Chapter 3 [Light] and Chapter 6 [Need] of RN7. In my deleted scenes I had posted an alternate chapter where Merlin and Arthur play on one of Merlin's favorite kinks, cock and ball torture (CBT). **NicAnBr** made a request to explore this kink further with these two, and as you must know by now I am never not writing and happy to oblige. 
> 
> What follows is a healthy negotiation of a kink that up until now in the story has gone unexplored. Remember that when trying new things, especially when it involves this kind of pain play, it's important to test your limits so no one gets hurt. I hope you enjoy a bit of wildly indulgent super smut to take you into the last half of this week! And thank you very much **NicAnBr** for your questions and for giving me the opportunity to write more clearly on paper the moment that both of these boys came into the realization that they might just be falling head over heels for each other. 💋

* * *

Arthur was just finishing an email to his Sales VP, so he didn't immediately pick up his phone when he heard the notification ping. He checked his smartwatch when he was finished and felt his heart skip a beat. Picked up his phone from his desk just to be sure.

> I want to negotiate something with you tonight, if that's okay. Sorry for texting, I didn't want to ruin your plans for the evening.

He read the message over twice. Merlin.

It was Thursday, and he'd been so busy with work he hadn't had time to think ahead to his appointment at Excalibur. He wondered what Merlin had in mind. It must be something interesting, for Merlin to text his personal number. Although he'd visited Merlin's apartment, and they had exchanged numbers haphazardly in the wake of a bad sub-drop, this was new territory for them. They didn't message each other during the day.

Arthur drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to decide what to do. Merlin had messaged him first so it was fine to message him back. But ever since they'd started this strange half-in half-out relationship, Arthur was wary of pushing the boundaries too far. He didn't mind at all, speaking to Merlin outside of their appointments at Excalibur, and in truth it may have come a little too easy for him to give Merlin his personal number. To agree to come to his apartment after that awful drop he'd had on stage. Arthur even knew his real name now, but Merlin still didn't know he was a Pendragon.

It all felt so unbalanced in his head.

He scrubbed his hair in frustration. Then typed a reply.

> Sure, sounds interesting. I'll see you at eight.

He didn't expect a reply, so he set his phone back down on the desk, jerked a little in surprise when it pinged again.

> Looking forward to it.

Arthur smiled down at his phone, his cheeks uncharacteristically warm. He touched them with his fingertips. Wondering.

* * *

When he entered the room at the end of the hall, Merlin was waiting for him, bouncing his leg where he was standing, leaning up against the beautiful bay window across from the door. Arthur shut the door softly and he turned, dressed in nothing but his brown suede pants. Merlin smiled, and the sight of it made Arthur want to _devour_ him.

Arthur shook himself a little, smiling back as Merlin crossed the room to take his coat.

"Hey," he said, lifting the heavy wool off of Arthur's shoulders.

"Hey yourself," Arthur said affectionately, and then immediately wanted to kick himself.

He sounded like a teenager.

Merlin beamed, but his face was a little flushed. Arthur looked him over more closely as he hung the coat up. If he was already this fidgety, whatever Merlin wanted to negotiate was either something he was unsure of or something he desperately wanted but was unsure of how to ask. Arthur tilted his head. Judging by the tension he was holding in his abdomen, Arthur thought, it was probably the latter.

Interesting.

"Why don't we sit?" Arthur said, gesturing to the bed. "Does that work?"

Merlin blew out a breath, ruffling his bangs.

"Yeah, that's good. I'll be right over."

Arthur nodded, cuffing his shirtsleeves for something to do as Merlin went to the cabinet and removed something, before joining him at the foot of the bed. Merlin hesitated there, holding a book against his chest. Arthur put his hand on the bed next to him.

"You don't kneel for me when we're negotiating," he said gently. "Sit here."

Merlin looked relieved. He sank down onto the edge of the bed, facing Arthur, one of his knees up on the mattress, touching Arthur's hip.

"There's something I want to try," Merlin said, getting right to the point. Arthur smiled. "But I never thought I'd meet anyone who would have the skill to do it. So I kind of let it go. Ever since you did that suspension for me, I started thinking that maybe you could do it."

He was rambling now, because he was embarrassed, or nervous or both. But all Arthur heard was that Merlin trusted his skill, and felt safe asking him to do something he'd never asked anyone to do with him before. Something he'd always wanted to do. Arthur had to school his expression. His heart was hammering in his ears.

"Anyway," Merlin said, finally lowering the book to his lap. Arthur glanced at the cover as he opened it, flipping through the pages. "I brought this to show you. I thought it would be easier, that way."

It was a book on kinbaku, Japanese tight binding. Arthur looked at the pages that Merlin had laid out for him.

He was quiet as he read them over. Merlin started to fidget again a little.

"I know it's kind of...we don't have to discuss it any further if you're not..."

"Merlin," Arthur said without looking up from the book. Merlin quieted himself. Watched Arthur read.

He flipped the page from the images of the tie that Merlin was interested in. Read over the instructions on the back of the picture. It wasn't complicated. Arthur had never done a tie like this but he was confident he could recreate it. It wasn't the ropes that gave him pause. It was _where_ Merlin wanted to be tied that both interested him and made him wonder if he had the experience necessary to do this safely.

They'd never discussed CBT before, but it was on Merlin's preferences list. He had to admit he was intrigued. He wondered what Merlin would get out of a tie like this. He wondered if Merlin knew, or if this was just something he thought about but never something he'd actually done.

When Arthur looked up Merlin was looking at his hands.

"Okay," Arthur said, getting Merlin's attention. "I have a few questions before we talk this out."

Merlin nodded, sitting up a little straighter. It made Arthur smile.

"Okay."

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Arthur said, tapping the book with his finger.

"No," Merlin said immediately, and then backtracked a little. "Yes, I mean, tight-binding, sure. But never anything like this tie."

Arthur nodded. "Have you actually played a scene around CBT before? Or is this something you're just curious about?"

Arthur was surprised when Merlin blushed. He was usually so forward about his likes and dislikes.

"Yeah, I...have." He finally managed.

"And you liked it?"

Merlin stared at Arthur, lips pressed into a thin line. There was something hot building behind his blue eyes and it occurred to Arthur suddenly that Merlin might misinterpret his questions. He might think Arthur was making a judgement.

"I'm only asking because one of us should have some experience here, especially with how much is too much. That line is very easy to cross with something like this. It would make me feel better to know that you know where that line is for you, that's all."

Merlin's eyes softened at that.

"I liked it," he said, looking down at the book.

Arthur reached across the book. Lifted Merlin's face with his hand under his chin. Merlin was flushed just talking about it. Arthur's smile became predatory.

"That much?"

Merlin swallowed thickly. Said quietly,

"That much."

Arthur let him go to look back down at the book, his attitude sobering a little.

"Alright, here's my counter offer. I can do this tie, but I'm not experienced with everything you're asking, so I want to modify what you see here in the photo. I want your hands free, just in case it's too much."

"Walk me through it," Merlin said seriously.

Arthur did. He would complete the lower tie as Merlin wanted, but he would use the four-poster bed as a counterweight. Then, to apply the pressure he was looking for, Merlin would use Arthur's body to create the tension in the rope. That way, if anything were to go wrong, Merlin could simply let go of him and the ropes would go slack.

Merlin listened carefully. Asked questions. Arthur was impressed.

"We'll have to go slow, but if this modified version works, I'd be comfortable negotiating this full body tie another time," Arthur said, handing the book back to Merlin. "When I have a better understanding of your limits with this."

Merlin took the book back. Nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Thanks for listening to all this."

"Of course," Arthur said, honestly. "Thank you for asking."

Merlin smiled, his blue eyes bright. Arthur leaned in, pressing his cheek to Merlin's so that he could say low in his ear,

"You were very good, being quiet for me while I was reading. That must have been hard for you."

Merlin made a small noise, his grip on the book tightening suddenly. Arthur pulled back just a little to look. Merlin's skin was hot to the touch and he had his eyes squeezed shut. He was biting his lower lip.

Arthur reached up, ran his thumb along Merlin's lower lip. He gasped quietly, his eyes coming open. Wide and already a little dilated and needy.

"Go put your book away Emrys," Arthur said.

Merlin moaned.

While he stood to put the book away, Arthur went to the cabinet to get all of the things he would need. There would be a lot of moving parts to this tie and to make it work he would need more than just a single hank of rope. Once he'd chosen all of the items he would need, Arthur laid them down on the bed and turned to face Merlin, who was standing a little back. Waiting for his direction. There was one thing Arthur had forgotten to address. He would have preferred to have talked through it while they were negotiating, but he didn't want to snap Merlin out of the scene so abruptly now that he'd initiated it. So instead he looked him up and down, said,

"Show me the position so I know you can hold it on your own."

If he wasn't flexible enough to hold the pose, Arthur would have to adjust the tie before starting. He circled Merlin as he sank to the floor on his knees, and then carefully lowered himself completely to his back, his knees wide, heels tucked underneath him, shoulders flat against the floor. Arthur hummed his approval, continued circling Merlin, watching for any immediate signs of stress in his breathing or tremors in his muscles to indicate that while he could lower himself to the right pose he might not be able to hold it for a long period of time. He saw none of that. Merlin looked relaxed, his head tilted slightly, watching Arthur through half-lidded eyes.

"Good," Arthur said, reaching down to offer Merlin his hand. "Very good."

Merlin was flushed when he took Arthur's hands and let him pull him back up to his feet.

"Color, Emrys?" He said against Merlin's mouth.

"Green, Sir," Merlin breathed.

"Take off your clothes and kneel, center of the bed."

Merlin did as he was told.

They would have to order the process correctly, or the whole thing might fall apart. So to give Merlin the opportunity to stretch first, Arthur got up on the bed behind him, and gently pressed him forward, not back.

"Hands up, Emrys, as far as you can," he said. Merlin slid his arms forward, stretching his arms and his shoulders, his head down. It looked like a supplicant pose, as though he were bowing, hands forward in front of him on the bedspread. He let out a long slow breath as Arthur ran his hands down the line of his bent spine. Massaged his lower back with his thumbs. He took his time, until Merlin was pliant and warm under his hands, his breathing even. Arthur was surprised and immediately proud that Merlin didn't seem at all anxious.

_"I never thought I'd meet anyone who would have the skill to do it."_

Arthur moaned quietly at the thought. Then he popped the cap on the lube, smiling when Merlin sank a little further into the pose. Gave Arthur a moan of his own before he'd even touched him.

He worked Merlin open slowly, because the plug he was going to be using was a larger, vibrating model. He wouldn't be able to help Merlin along himself this time, because of how he had suggested they modify the tie. So they would need a little help tonight, to make it what Merlin really wanted.

The thought of Merlin asking him to do this for him, made Arthur hot from the inside out. He crooked his fingers, knowing all of Merlin's best places by heart now, feeling the ache in his own cock when Merlin hitched on a breath, let out a soft cry at the sensation. Arthur found it again, pressed his free hand into Merlin's spine to keep him from jolting up out of position. Let him shake a moment, in the effort of not moving when Arthur teased him.

He took his hand out slowly, slid his palm down, further, until he could feel Merlin's cock against his hand. His heavy balls. Arthur stroked him, making Merlin gasp, clench his outstretched hands into the covers. He stroked him until Merlin was letting out tiny whimpered cries into the bed, before letting him go.

Merlin groaned, sinking back into the mattress, and Arthur picked up the plug. He seated it without much resistance, letting Merlin press back into his hand.

"Color, Emrys?"

Arthur was surprised by the timbre of his own voice, raw and hungry, and Merlin moaned in earnest at the sound of it.

"Green, Sir," he said.

He sounded like he was already miles high. Arthur smiled and picked up the rope. The first tie was a very simple one, to keep the plug from moving. Once they started if it needed to be adjusted it would break the scene for Merlin, so Arthur guided him to sit back up on his heels, and began by folding the rope in half and twisting the ends together, making a tight spiral, which he threaded between Merlin's spread thighs, careful not to touch him with his hands. He split the working ends of the rope, making a V shape, and pulled each single end up in front of Merlin and then back over his hips and around his thin waist. The spiraled end of the rope was pressed against the plug, up between the full cheeks of his ass, the two single ends pulling taught from either side of his balls and pulled through the loop left at the end of the spiral, where he'd folded the rope in half. When he pulled the ends of the rope tight to secure it, Merlin arched with a moan and Arthur made quick work of knotting it at the base of his spine. Then he kissed the back of Merlin's shoulder because he couldn't help himself, and guided him to lay down on his side.

The next two ties he worked up fast, securing Merlin's ankles to his thighs using a double column with another set of rope. The set he'd chosen tonight was a deep navy and it looked absolutely stunning against all of Merlin's freckled pale skin.

"We have to make these ties separate," Arthur was saying running his hands over Merlin's hip, checking the tension in the ropes before turning him over to tie his other ankle to his other thigh. "So there are no pull releases for a tie like this. But your hands are free, and I have scissors on the bed with me."

Merlin made a soft noise, and surprising Arthur, took a hold of his trousers in his fist. Pressed his forhead into Arthur's thigh, obscuring his face.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Arthur leaned down and kissed Merlin's hip, and then gently slid off the bed, to help Merlin sit up.

Merlin's eyes were blown and glassy when Arthur looked him over. Pressed his black curls away from his face to get a better look.

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's hands, his eyes closed. He was still, and he kept his hands on his thighs.

"You must really want this," Arthur said. "I've never seen you so obedient."

Merlin's eyes came open at that, his cheeks reddening in surprise. Arthur smirked.

"You have no idea how well you're listening for me, do you? How perfect you are when you do?"

Merlin's hands curled into fists on his thighs. He didn't look away from Arthur's face, but it was a near thing.

"No, Sir," he said.

Arthur believed him. Merlin always seemed so uncertain when Arthur complimented him, for any reason, as though he weren't used to someone giving him sincere praise. But it was clear he craved it.

Arthur cupped Merlin's face in his hands, tilted his face back a little so he couldn't look away. Gave Merlin the same gift he'd given him, earlier that night as his reward.

"I couldn't do this with anyone else," Arthur said. "You listen so well. So I know I can keep you safe. Do you have any idea how good that makes me feel?"

Merlin shook his head as best he could. Arthur allowed it, because it was clear Merlin was on the verge of tears.

"It's perfect, Emrys," he said. "It makes me feel perfect."

Merlin closed his eyes. Arthur brushed the tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

"Color, Emrys?"

"Green," Merlin said, his voice breaking a little at the end. "Green, please Arthur."

At the sound of his real name in place of 'Sir' Arthur was surprised at his own reaction. He was _throbbing_ in his trousers. He surged forward and kissed Merlin for the first time that night, deeply, using his tongue and forcing Merlin's mouth open, pulling a lewd moan from both of them.

When he pulled back he pressed his hand into Merlin's chest, and pushed gently.

"Lay down," he commanded.

Merlin closed his eyes. Laid back as he had done on the floor, arching over his heels and pressing his shoulders into the mattress. Arthur had to take a deep breath before he started the next tie. The one that Merlin wanted, the one he only trusted Arthur to do.

He found the center of the rope and pulled the ends through the loop at the end, making a noose, and then gently pulled the loop around Merlin's balls, so that the ends of the rope trailed down from behind them. He gave the rope a sharp tug and Merlin gave a shout in surprise.

"Too tight?" Arthur said.

"No, Sir," Merlin breathed. Arthur gave it another tug.

Merlin arched, moaning at the ceiling. Arthur smirked and continued, taking the trailing ends of the rope and twisting them into a tight spiral as he had done with the first tie. Then he drew the spiral up between Merlin's balls, separating them gently, before splitting the ends, and tying them off just below the base of Merlin's cock.

He held Merlin's balls in the palm of his hand, running his thumb across the ropes. Squeezing gently.

Merlin's chest twisted up and away from the sensation, his head thrown back, entirely incoherent now. The sounds he was making went straight to Arthur's dick.

"You really do love this, don't you?" Arthur mused.

Merlin let out a sob, his head lolling to the side.

"God..." was all he could manage.

There was still one more tie to complete, and Arthur didn't want to rile Merlin to the point that he would come too early. It was so hard not to, though.

"I have to let go of you to set the bar up," Arthur told him. "Lift your head. Look at me."

He waited until Merlin did. This would quickly turn into a distress pose the longer he took to return to the bed. Merlin would have to use all the strength in his abs to hold his head and shoulders off the bed to look at him, without sitting up entirely. Merlin lifted his gaze to Arthur's. His blue eyes were wet and they looked fevered. It made Arthur hungry.

He slid off the bed and picked up the spreader bar, extending it so that he could secure the cuffs to the two posts at the end of the bed. He rattled it a little for good measure, testing it to make sure it wouldn't come loose. Merlin whimpered. Arthur looked up. He was trembling with the effort of holding the position Arthur had instructed.

"Are you tired?"

Merlin nodded. Arthur slapped him hard, on the inside of his bound thigh. Merlin jerked with a cry, almost losing the pose.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I am, Sir."

"You're what?"

"Tired, Sir," Merlin clarified. He was struggling. Arthur eyed him a moment longer before crawling back up onto the bed with him.

"You can lay back now, Emrys," Arthur said, putting a hand on Merlin's thigh.

Merlin groaned, collapsing back to the bed, panting a little.

Arthur didn't waste anymore time. The position Merlin was in would become exponentially stressful the longer he held it, and although he knew his ropes weren't tight enough to cut of circulation on its own, with Merlin's legs pinned underneath him as they were, he would lose feeling in them eventually.

He made another noose with the last length of rope on the bed with him, and looped it around Merlin's balls. Then he tied the ends to the bar across the foot of the bed. There was very little tension to this rope. Just enough to keep it from sagging too much. Finished now, Arthur took a seat behind Merlin's head. Took a moment to run his hands down his chest, and his stomach, lifting Merlin's head gently to lay in his lap.

"All done," he said quietly. "You're brilliant."

Merlin bit his lip, turned his face into the inside of Arthur's knee. Arthur was sitting cross-legged, still running his hands along Merlin's arched stomach, his chest. His pert nipples, making him gasp.

"Are you ready, love?" Arthur said.

"Yes," Merlin whimpered. "Please, I'm ready."

Arthur took Merlin's arms in his and guided them over Merlin's head to wrap them around Arthur's waist. He was sitting back just far enough that if Merlin were to close the distance between his two hands, then he would pull himself toward Arthur, and the rope attached to the bar at the end of the bed would tighten. Sharply.

"Link your fingers," Arthur commanded.

Merlin did, Arthur helping by pulling him back further by his biceps. Merlin gave a shout as the ropes all tightened at once, his back arching. But he didn't let go. Arthur held him there for a moment, and then released his arms letting him hold himself there by Arthur's waist. Merlin's thighs were shaking. He barely seemed to notice Arthur at all. He still had his face turned into Arthur's knee, his cheeks flushed all the way to his ears, his lips parted, letting out tiny pants and involuntary noises against Arthur's trousers.

He was stunning.

"Color, Emrys?" Arthur said.

"Green Sir, so fucking green," Merlin hissed, startling a grin from Arthur.

"Good. I'm trusting you with your own limits tonight," Arthur said reverently. "If you have to let go, let go."

"I will, I promise," Merlin said earnestly. "Please don't stop now."

Arthur chuckled, and then turned on the remote to the vibrator.

Merlin's whole body jerked when it came on, and he shouted at the tug he got on his balls for moving so suddenly. He arched, his arms tightening around Arthur's waist letting out an ecstatic moan so lewd it surprised even Arthur.

"Fuck!" Merlin cried when Arthur turned up the vibrator skipping over the second setting and going straight to three. "Harder, Arthur please!"

Arthur could feel his arms slipping on his waist. It was difficult for him to keep the tension on the ropes by himself. Arthur took hold of his biceps again, steadied Merlin's grip.

"Lean back," Merlin begged, moaning, his grip white knuckle tight on Arthur now.

Arthur leaned forward.

Merlin let out an incredulous whine, his eyes flying open, but he knew what he'd done.

"I'm so sorry, Sir, please!"

He was _writhing_ under Arthur's hands, desperate to find that tension again. The head of his cock beaded with precum.

"Please what?" Arthur said indulgently, and turned the vibrator up again.

Merlin screamed, his head thrown back into Arthur's lap.

"Lean back, _Sir_ , please!"

Arthur did.

He went slow, holding on to Merlin's biceps and bracing Merlin's back with his ankles. He dropped his weight back on to Merlin's hands, linked around his waist until Merlin's mantra of ' _Thank you'_ turned into a serious of panted, moaning _'oh'_ s. He held that spot, aware of the pain that had spiked through his hip and ignored it for now. Merlin was arching his neck, bucking abortively in his ties. He looked absolutely wrecked when he finally managed a desperate,

"I'm...! Ah...Arthur I'm...!"

"Come for me, Merlin," Arthur said without thinking.

Merlin's eyes flew open, and Arthur was looking down at him, and for one brief, hazy moment there was the silence of orgasm, the pressure build up and then the immediate drop off into nothing before Arthur saw it, the moment Merlin came, his pupils blowing out, and he was screaming Arthur's name, his body bowed and tight and utterly spent.

Merlin let go of him suddenly and without warning, collapsing back to the bed in a boneless heap, making pleased sounds in the back of his throat. Arthur barely remembered to turn off the vibrator. He was staring at Merlin's face, eyes wide, his whole body hot.

He had never seen anything so erotic in his life. If he had been as riled as Merlin had been when he'd looked down into those blue eyes, he was certain he would have come right then and there, untouched, to the sound of Merlin's screaming alone.

Merlin was nuzzling his leg, his eyes half-lidded, his sweat damp curls sticking to his forehead. He looked utterly destroyed and incandescently happy. Arthur stroked his hair with a shaking hand.

"How exceptional you are," he whispered.

Merlin gave him a dreamy smile.

* * *

It took a fair amount of time for him to get Merlin freed of all the various ties. So he wasn't aware that Merlin had come back to him again until suddenly he was rolled onto his back and Merlin was straddling him.

He groaned when Merlin leaned over to kiss him, unzipping his trousers and forcing Arthur's head back, using his tongue. He pulled back, panting, stroked Arthur up as he spoke,

"I felt you," he was whispering against Arthur's mouth. "You almost came watching me didn't you?"

Arthur reached up, took a fistful of Merlin's hair and tugged sharply, taking back control of the kiss, deepening it. Making Merlin moan.

"So what if I did?" He said in a ragged whisper, panting as Merlin positioned himself over the head of his aching cock, despite Arthur's grip on his hair.

"Show me what it would have been like," Merlin was saying as he lowered himself onto Arthur's full length with a groan. "If it had been you and not a toy."

Arthur took Merlin hard by the back of the neck and threw him down onto the bed, rattling it in the frame. Merlin pulled him over with him, and Arthur was fucking Merlin into the mattress, chasing that aching, hot release he'd been denied all night, buried his face in Merlin's neck and pounded into him, until there was nothing left but him and Merlin and the tightness between them.

"Come on," Merlin was hissing in his ear, outside of himself. "Fuck! ...right...there!"

Arthur growled into Merlin's throat, picking up his pace. He was so close. It was right there. He bit down on Merlin's shoulder, sinking his teeth in, burying himself as deep as he would go and Merlin let out a cry, his hand fisted in Arthur's hair, holding him there, urging him to bite down harder. To make it bruise.

"Fuck, yes! Arthur!"

He came hard, liquid starlight pouring into his veins and running shimmering shockwaves through every inch of his body. He would have been screaming, but the sound was muffled by his teeth in Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin was still spilling encouragements all over him, and for one impossible moment Arthur was sure this was what it was like to touch the sky.

* * *

When Merlin had showered and Arthur had come back into the room after cleaning up, he was pleasantly surprised to see Merlin laying on the bed in nothing but his button up shirt. The sleeves were comically large on him and Merlin was giving him a cheeky smile. Arthur smiled back, climbing up on the bed and climbing over Merlin, kneeling between his long legs. He slid a hand up Merlin's stomach, under the shirt, and Merlin hummed, pleased. He looked absolutely _blissful_.

"I guess I don't have to ask if that worked for you?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not unless you want a stupid answer."

Arthur barked out a laugh, high on Merlin's joy.

"Alright, love. Let me see," he said gently, sitting back on his heels.

Merlin let him open his thighs. Check for any abrasions. There were a few minor ones, but Arthur had expected as much, even using a softer rope. It was still rope, after all. He cupped Merlin's swollen balls in his hand, making him flinch.

Arthur glanced up at him. Merlin was blushing.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. Arthur gave him a crooked smile.

"Nothing to be sorry for. When you get home tonight, use a heating pad. You're going to be sore for a few days."

Merlin nodded. Then he reached for Arthur, sitting up on one elbow as he did.

"Lay down with me," he said. "I want to kiss you until you leave."

Arthur let himself be tangled up in all of Merlin's long limbs, running his hands over the rope marks on Merlin's thighs as Merlin kissed him again, softly this time, pressing his body as close to Arthur's as he could manage.

Arthur kissed him back. He could think of nothing better.

* * *

That night as Arthur lay sleeping beside him, Merlin couldn't stop thinking about the scene. He stared at Arthur's relaxed face, the way his blonde hair fell against his brow. His soft breathing.

He was consumed by the sound of Arthur saying his name, his real name, and the pressure of his hands and the feeling of Arthur's cock against his cheek when Merlin came.

_"Come for me, Merlin."_

He had to close his eyes. Take a deep breath.

He'd come harder than he ever had in his life, and it wasn't the rope or the vibrator or any of the things they had done leading up to that one explosive moment of pure pleasure.

It was the sound of Arthur, saying his name.

Merlin had to swallow hard.

He would remember tonight for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. And when his time with Arthur was finally up, when he'd tired of paying Merlin's fees or tired of Merlin or both, Merlin would remember, and be grateful he'd gotten at least this much of Arthur for a time. His quiet, serious consideration of Merlin's request, and his careful application of his rope ties. How passionate he was. How detailed. How hard and fast he responded to everything Merlin did. How excited that made Merlin, even now.

He reached out, the sleeve of Arthur's business shirt falling over his knuckles as he brushed Arthur's hair gently off his forehead. He didn't stir.

How only one person in his life had ever told him to come for him, and Merlin _did_. Not because he was already falling over the edge of orgasm. But because Arthur had told him to, and he was helpless to do anything but listen.

Carefully, Merlin lifted his head, and pressing his cheek feather light to Arthur's, listened to his soft breathing for a moment.

"How exceptional you are," Merlin whispered in Arthur's ear.

Arthur smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few quick things to address here, to round out this request. CBT is a kink that generally plays off of multiple kinks, but as with any kink it's based on preference and not easy to put into any one box. You see this combined sometimes with chastity kinks (not allowing your partner to come for very long periods of time, varying of course depending on your relationship), with shibari and kinbaku, as Merlin and Arthur demonstrated above, and with pain play, as demonstrated in the alternate chapter from The Same Truths. Of course there are many other combinations but these are the ones that come immediately to mind when I think of CBT. 
> 
> One of the questions posed was why this would be pleasurable, since this part of the body is generally so sensitive. And I think the easiest answer to that is because of that, if done right, it makes everything that much more intense. CBT tends to oversensitize these areas, and as we have seen from the kinks I've built into Merlin's character here, that's something he really enjoys. In fact, it's one of the first observations Arthur makes about Merlin in the bedroom. 
> 
> _"You don't want it to go off like fireworks. You need it to go off like a nuclear bomb."_
> 
> So for Merlin this is about the sensation play, of pushing limits and heightening the sensitivity of his body before orgasm. 
> 
> I hope that makes sense! Thank you again for sticking with me all this time. You're all so wonderful to write for! I could do it forever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> P.S. Merlin for sure took that shirt from Arthur and wore it home. Arthur went home with nothing under his coat.


	8. Exceptional - FedSaffa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur comes to Excalibur and Emrys needs to play hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for all of your beautiful comments, I'm so happy that everyone has enjoyed this little experiment of mine! So for today's chapter, I need to thank **FedSaffa** who asked me to write a scene about Merlin and Arthur playing hard, like they did in Chapter 6, Need. 
> 
> This...wasn't what I planned to write ^^;;; I had intended this to just be a quick sexy example of some hard impact play while Merlin was being a giant brat. Instead what I ended up writing was the first time Merlin ever sprung a scene like this on Arthur, how it got jumbled up between them, and how they fixed it in the end. It was also a nod to Chapter 6, Need, by explaining how they were able to pull off such a good scene later, when this one was pretty so-so. 
> 
> I want to emphasize here that I do not believe that a scene didn't go well if someone drops afterwards (sub-dropping or top-dropping). You can drop for any number of reasons, and it does not automatically mean that the scene wasn't working. However, because Arthur and Merlin are so emotionally attuned to each other in my stories, when one of them drops it's usually in response to the emotional state of the other one. So here we got lots of smutty smut wrapped up in some healthy reflection. This is why it is so important to communicate with your partners. 
> 
> So thank you again, **FedSaffa** , for giving me the opportunity to explore this a little more. And keep an eye out! We'll be seeing another very intense hard impact play scene between Arthur and Merlin in RN7. Coming soon! 💋

* * *

There was a way that Emrys held himself when he needed redirection that Arthur had picked up on quickly in their encounters at Excalibur. Sometimes it was a reaction to something Arthur had done - something that made Emrys want to buck at the constraints of the game. As with most bratty behavior Arthur had encountered in his time as a Dom, this was something he expected from time to time. And he had pegged Emrys as someone prone to bratty behavior from their first scene together.

But other times, it was coming from a deeper place. This was something Arthur didn't entirely have context for, and if he were being honest he wasn't sure how comfortable he was running a scene around something he didn't fully understand. But Emrys had made it clear that discussing personals, however seemingly innocuous, wasn't on the table.

So when he entered the room at the end of the hall and Emrys was waiting for him with a look in his blue eyes that ignited the room, leaning into his hip, Arthur didn't ask questions.

He closed the door behind him softly. Stood waiting for Emrys to greet him, just in case. He didn't. So Arthur began taking off his coat. He never took his eyes off Emrys as he did.

"Come here," he said.

Emrys crossed the room and his attitude was radiating with every step. It was a challenge, and he made no attempt to hide it.

"Kneel," Arthur said, turning away from Emrys to hang up his coat.

He did, sinking into the carpet. His gaze always on Arthur's face.

"I have some work to do," Arthur said, turning back to Emrys with his hands in his pockets. He was satisfied with the look on Emrys's face at his words. Arthur didn't care. He watched Emrys coldly, sinking into his own headspace, becoming a _Pendragon_. Putting Arthur away, for now.

"Wait here until I'm done."

Then he turned, and walked to the bed, where he sat and took his phone from his pocket.

Emrys was frozen where he knelt, facing the door, his eyes a little wide. He clenched his hands into fists on the tops of his thighs, but otherwise didn't move.

"Color, Emrys," Arthur said absently, checking his emails.

"Green, Sir," Emrys said. It was the first thing he had said to Arthur since he had entered the room, and the sound of his voice told Arthur more than enough about what territory they would be in tonight. He was _furious_.

Arthur glanced up at him, and then back down at his phone. Emrys hadn't moved, but he was angry. That had to change before they began. Arthur had no way to redirect Emrys's anger without knowing the cause. So it would need to be difused a little before they started. Arthur wasn't going to play with Emrys if he wasn't thinking clearly. Frustration, uncertainty, even fear, Arthur could work with. But anger made people reckless and he had no desire to be responsible for the broken pieces that were likely to collapse inside of Emrys, if they pushed each other too hard. What surprised him was how hard it was not to rise to Emrys's anger. To give back in kind, because he knew that's what Emrys wanted him to do. It rattled him a little to think that he had become so attuned to Emrys's emotional reactions to him, in such a short time.

He wondered briefly if Emrys did this with other Doms, Doms who had no problem taking out their own anger on him, and damn the consequences. Mostly, he wondered _why_.

He could practically feel Emrys seething where he sat. The glare he had fixed to the door was incendiary. If Emrys had been a warlock, Arthur imagined the door would have been blown off it's hinges by now. Burned to a cinder.

Arthur gave it another few minutes, but it was clear that Emrys's anger wasn't cooling in the silence. It was getting worse. The tension in the room had become unbelievably heated. He was about to stand, to try something else, when Emrys hissed at him from across the room.

"What are you even doing here?"

Arthur looked up from his phone. When he answered his tone was chilling.

"I didn't say you could speak."

"You never said I couldn't."

Emrys was looking at him now as well, although he hadn't turned his body away from the door.

"I've paid a lot of money to be here," Arthur said, his tone vitriolic in the space between them. "Why are you here?"

Emrys's beautiful eyes narrowed.

"You're paying me to be here," he snapped.

"I am," Arthur agreed, standing. He put his phone away, but didn't cross the room to Emrys. Just waited, for what he knew was coming.

"Then why are you just _sitting_ there?" Emrys snapped.

"Oh?" Arthur said, his voice dangerously calm. "Did you have something else in mind?"

Emrys tensed. Arthur watched as every muscle in his back tightened under the wings of his shoulder blades.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Emrys ground out between his clenched teeth.

Arthur finally crossed the room to where Emrys was sitting, stared down his nose at him, his gaze disinterested and cold.

"When, in the course of this arrangement, has it ever been acceptable for you to speak to me that way?"

Emrys glowered at him.

"I'm waiting," Arthur hissed.

"Never, _Sir_ ," Emrys shot back. He said 'Sir' like someone would say 'you fucking moron'. Arthur clenched his hand into a fist inside his pocket.

"Good," he said evenly. "I don't expect you'll do it again."

"Can I expect you'll do _anything_ at all, tonight? Sir?" Emrys said.

Arthur bent at the waist coming nose to nose with Emrys, his own frustration taking root in his eyes.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear tonight, Emrys. I'm not going to hit you because you bullied me into it. I've never struck anyone in anger without cause in my _life_ and I'm certainly not going to start here, in this room. Do. You. Understand. Me?"

Emrys actually leaned back a fraction at the tone of his words, his eyes clearing momentarily. His shoulders dropped, if only a little. It took him some time to respond, but when he did, he was less heated than he had been.

"Yes," he said very quietly. "I understand."

Arthur straightened. And then, surprising him, Emrys added,

"I'm sorry."

Arthur looked him over again, and then turned and walked back to the bed. Over his shoulder he said,

"You can come here, Emrys."

He did.

As Arthur sat on the foot of the bed, Emrys crossed the room softly, and waited, standing a little far from Arthur, unsure. Arthur gestured to the floor and Emrys sank back down to his knees beside Arthur's legs. He was still very tense.

Arthur wasn't in the mood to be gracious anymore. He had his own emotional reactions to being goaded, and none of them were kind. But he wasn't going to continue this if he couldn't find some kind of direction. If Emrys stonewalled him now, Arthur would leave.

They could try again next Thursday.

"I'm going to ask you this one time," Arthur said, looking down at Emrys. "And if you can't answer me I'm going to put on my coat and leave. Do you understand me?"

Emrys looked as though he'd been slapped.

"I understand," he said quietly.

"What do you need from me, Emrys?"

He didn't ask the question gently. There was nothing tender or affectionate about the way he was looking at Emrys.

"I don't need anything from you," Emrys said. Arthur knew this was payback for the way Arthur had spoken to him earlier. "You paid for this, not me."

Arthur smiled dangerously.

"If that were true, you would have been able to sit quietly as instructed."

"This is a sex club," Emrys fired back. Arthur didn't flinch.

"Yes."

Emrys looked like he might be about to start yelling. Arthur took his chin in his hand, his fingers tight on Emrys's face. He was very careful not to tighten his grip enough to bruise. But it was a near thing.

"I'm not asking for War and Peace from you," Arthur hissed. "I don't care why, I don't care about whatever it was that led to this. What. Do. You. Need?"

Emrys swallowed hard and Arthur let his chin go. Sat back and waited to hear his response.

"I need you to hit me," Emrys said quietly. "I need you to hit me until it's the only thing I can feel."

Arthur watched him for another long moment. He was absolutely certain that Emrys had done this before with other Doms, knowing they would have put him through the ringer for his attitude. His lack of respect. It concerned him. It concerned him more that Emrys believed it would work on him.

"If I ask you to face the wall, you'll do it because I said you will. If you want something, you'll ask. And I'll decide whether or not you deserve it. Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir," Emrys replied quietly, his eyes down.

"Then pick a wall, and go face it."

Emrys's shoulders heaved momentarily. But he stood to do as he was told. Arthur watched him as he turned to stand in front of the blank wall beside the bed. Straightened his shoulders. Waited.

Arthur took his time crossing the room to where Emrys was waiting, after he'd gone to the cabinet in the corner to retrieve the items he wanted. If he had been prepared for this, he might have set the scene differently. But he could think on his feet, if he were careful.

"Color, Emrys."

"Green, Sir," he said.

"Put your hands flat on the wall."

He did. Arthur took him roughly by the neck, and forced him lower. The suddenness of his hand on Emrys made him startle, and he resisted a little when Arthur pushed. But eventually he allowed himself to be bent nearly in half, his chest parallel with the floor, palms flat on the wall.

"Step back," Arthur said unkindly as he let Emrys go.

Emrys did, his arms fully stretched out in front of him, now. He was too far back to put any pressure on his palms to help him hold the position. It was a simple distress pose. After five minutes it would become difficult. After ten, unbearable. After fifteen and anything beyond that would be excruciating.

Emrys could already feel it in his shoulders and his lower back. He took a breath. Closed his eyes.

"Don't move. Don't make any noise unless it's to use your safeword. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Emrys said.

"If you fall we'll start over."

Emrys nodded. Arthur allowed it.

Then he struck Emrys without warning, on the outside of his clothed thigh with the cane.

Normally he would have warmed them up a little, gotten Emrys used to the tapping strike of the wooden tool. But they had used it before, and he wasn't hitting bare skin. And Arthur wasn't feeling indulgent at the moment.

Emrys sucked in a breath, his whole body tensing. But he didn't make any noise. Arthur hit him, again, and again, sometimes twice in the same spot. He kept his eye on the bedside table clock, watching the minutes tick by. After five, he struck Emrys on the shoulder.

He caved a little at the blow, making a tiny noise in the back of his throat, his spine sinking toward the floor. Arthur snapped the cane across the soft side of Emrys's waist, catching his stomach just above the hem of his brown suede pants. Emrys let out a breath like he'd been punched.

"Straighten your back," was all Arthur said.

Emrys tried, but he was shaking now. Arthur hit him again in the same spot. Harder.

Emrys couldn't stop the shout he gave in response. Arthur sighed.

He tossed the cane on the floor.

"I gave you one simple task," he said.

Emrys lifted his head as though he might say something, so Arthur hit him across the back of his hand with a short leather tawse. Emrys jumped, his hand slipped on the wall but he managed to straighten himself while Arthur circled him, checking his position.

The tawse wasn't a usual tool for them, because, in part, it was so short. It was roughly the size of a ruler, with a heavy handle and a split center to allow air to pass through. Less resistance to the air when it was being swung, and more likely to welt. Arthur remembered this exact tool being used to discipline the boys at his boarding school.

He struck Emrys again, closer to his ribs, across his back. Emrys was struggling. His whole body was shaking in an attempt to hold the position he'd been instructed to, and every blow made it harder.

"I can't," he started to say.

Arthur slapped him hard, across the outside of his thigh.

Emrys yelped, dropping his head between his shoulders.

"Shut up, Emrys," Arthur said.

The body under his hands heaved against a sob. He hit him again, still watching the clock, alternating between the tawse and his hand. By the time he'd stopped to give them both a rest, Emrys was covered in welts and bruises.

It took twelve minutes for Emrys to collapse. He crashed to the floor on his knees, his hands still pressed against the wall, a sob escaping him.

Arthur was impressed.

"Get up," he said. "Take off your pants."

Emrys struggled to his feet. He did what Arthur asked, but slowly. His body was still shaking so he allowed Emrys to stretch out the time a little while. And he was pleased with the bruises on his thighs from the caning. When he again had pressed his palms flat to the wall, Arthur forced his head down. Made him take the same pose a second time.

The shaking redoubled.

When Arthur picked up the cane again, Emrys whimpered. The sound of it shot straight down Arthur's spine.

"Please," Emrys whispered. "I'm sorry."

"You're not," Arthur said. "But you will be."

He struck Emrys inside of his thigh, his ass, his hips. He knew that Emrys would fall again fairly quickly, it was just the nature of the position. So he didn't let up. Emrys _keened_. He couldn't stop himself from crying out anymore. His whole body jerked when Arthur took him full across his ass. And then, as Arthur knew he would, he fell.

He was breathing hard and his cheeks were wet when Arthur reached around him, and took him by the chin, jerking him up so that the back of his head was pressed into Arthur's stomach, looking up at him with clouded blue eyes. Gags weren't a big turn on for Arthur. But there was one thing he did enjoy about the idea.

He forced his own folded leather belt into Emrys's mouth with his hand under his chin, making him to bite down.

Then he said,

"Get up."

Emrys sobbed, taking the position one more time. He flinched when Arthur put a hand on his hot skin. This time he would fall even more quickly, so he wasted no time. Arthur lowered himself to his knees and spread Emrys open. Slid his tongue inside him.

Emrys shrieked against Arthur's belt, and as he lapped at his hole, Arthur heard Emrys's nails drag on the wall. He barely had enough time to slide his tongue inside a second time before Emrys fell again to his knees.

He was sobbing.

"Get up."

Emrys shook his head.

Arthur took him by the hair and pulled him up to his feet. He shouted against the leather in his mouth, but he didn't drop it. Arthur made him stand in the pose again. Watched the tears sliding off Emrys's nose, hitting the carpet.

Arthur was only able to hit him twice with the cane before Emrys crashed to the floor _again_.

This time Arthur didn't ask. He took Emrys by the hair to pull him to his feet. But Emrys reached back when he did. Fisted a shaking hand in his shirtsleeve. He was crying in earnest now against the belt in his mouth and he was clutching at Arthur like his life depended on it. But it wasn't a safeword. Arthur adjusted his grip. Instead of yanking Emrys ruthlessly back to his feet, he tipped his head up, exposing the long column of Emrys's throat.

Gently he lifted the belt from Emrys's mouth. He let it go with a gasp, relief washing over him, making Arthur soften a fraction at the sight. He was absolutely wrecked, still shaking from the strain of the predicament pose, his body covered in welts and bruises. His eyes were blown and glassy, and to Arthur's surprise, completely _warm_. He looked utterly content, despite the fact that he was still being punished. Despite the fact that he and Arthur had been at odds since they'd started this whole thing.

"You may speak," Arthur said quietly.

"Please," Emrys said in a rush. "Please not again."

"Not what again?"

"I don't want to fall again," Emrys sobbed, closing his eyes when Arthur brushed a hand over his cheek. The first soft hand he'd laid on Emrys all night. "I don't want you to see me fall again."

"Why does it matter if I see it or not?"

Arthur hadn't meant to ask this out loud. He'd been thinking it, because Emrys was such a puzzle to him, at once the best scene partner he'd ever had, and someone who was always at arms length. So he couldn't fathom the response that Emrys gave him, but it pooled in the cradle of his hips, regardless.

"I can't leave here knowing I couldn't do what you asked," Emrys sobbed, leaning his cheek into Arthur's hand. "I want to do _everything_ you ask of me."

Gently, Arthur tugged on Emrys's hair again.

"Stand up for me," he said.

Emrys came to his feet and let Arthur walk him over to the foot of the bed, where they had begun. Then, impulsively, Arthur loosened his tie and used it to bind Emrys's wrists behind his back before pushing him face down into the bed. Emrys let out a breath, able to keep his feet underneath him with the bed to support his weight.

"Take ten more for me," Arthur said. "Can you do that much?"

"Yes," Emrys said breathlessly. "I can."

Arthur used his hand. He slapped Emrys across his thighs, his bruised ass, hard, leaving his hand prints behind, and let Emrys cry out into the bed as he went. When he got to nine, he wrenched Emrys back up by his hair and threw him back down, getting a shout in surprise when his back his the mattress. And then Arthur slapped him one last time, hard, across the face.

Emrys's head whipped to the side, and he cried out, coming hard all over himself, his yelp drowning in a series of quiet staccato moans. Arthur ran his hands over Emrys's bruised thighs, his ribs, coaxing him down, and had one final flash of intuition. He slipped up onto the bed with Emrys, and pulled him into his lap, Emrys's shaking back pressed to his chest. Then he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a sharpie. Uncapped it with his teeth.

"Watch me, love," he said in Emrys's ear. Emrys was absolutely gone now, his head bowed between his shoulders, but he managed to lift his chin a little. Watched as Arthur began writing on the top of his thigh.

**I AM BRAVE**

**I AM SMART**

**I AM GOOD**

Emrys cried. It wasn't the sobbing that occasionally happened when they played, the kind of crying that is a release of pent up energy. This was real grief, and it shuddered out of Emrys in an irretrievable wave. He hunched forward, caving into his shoulders, pressing his forehead into his knees, and cried. Arthur untied him. Ran his hands over the backs of his shoulders, gently now. Kissed the curve of his bent spine.

Emrys twisted in his lap. Wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and kissed him, deeply, like he was a gift. Arthur couldn't remember anyone kissing him like that, ever in his life. He was addicted instantly. He kissed Emrys back, helping him turn fully to face Arthur and then pressed Arthur back into the bed.

Arthur went willingly, let Emrys have his control back. Let him pull his shirt out of his trousers. Let him take them down and off entirely, tossing them carelessly, pants and all, off the side of the bed. He was sliding all of his long body down Arthur's, kissing as he went, and when he took Arthur into his mouth, Arthur saw stars.

He bowed to Emrys's mouth, clenched a hand into the bed spread beneath him. Emrys pried his fingers loose and placed Arthur's hand on his own head. Moaned against Arthur's heavy cock in his mouth when Arthur fisted his hand in his hair instead. Sucked Arthur off hard, encouraging him to move, and moaned louder, making Arthur groan when Arthur bucked into Emrys's mouth and hit the back of his throat. He fucked Emrys's mouth, his back arching as Emrys pinned one of his thighs to the bed, opening his hips, and taking him deeper, swallowing him down, making tiny, lewd noises around the head of Arthur's aching cock.

Arthur threw his head to the side when Emrys hummed against his hot flesh. Hollowed his cheeks. Let Arthur thrust hard into the back of his throat. He felt the white heat of his orgasm vibrating down his thighs, his whole body arching as Emrys picked up his pace, and he was helpless to stop it. He had to bite down on his own arm when he came, his hips jerking abortively, a scream trapped in his throat.

He collapsed back onto the bed, his body a boneless heap and he didn't move, his hand loose now in Emrys's hair, Emrys's cheek pressed against his warm thigh, staring off into space. Breathing hard.

It was Emrys who moved first, and Arthur knew he should be moving too, but he was so tired.

"Arthur," Emrys whispered, brushing his hair back off his face. "I'll be right back. Okay?"

Arthur nodded. Stayed right where he was.

He didn't know what Emrys was doing. He wasn't quite falling asleep. Not exactly awake. He recognized that he was dropping, but he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. He was aware he had a headache. That was all he could seem to focus on.

He closed his eyes.

And then Emrys was there, helping him sit up, cupping his hands around a warm mug of black tea.

"Here," Emrys said quietly. "Drink this. Then we can lay down."

Arthur nodded, but he didn't lift the mug to his lips. Emrys came up behind him. Began running his hands over Arthur's shoulders, the back of his neck, into his hair. He kissed his bare skin. Tapped the bottom of the tea when Arthur still hadn't moved. Showered him in praise when he finally took a sip.

There was sugar in the tea. Arthur never took sugar in his tea but just then it tasted perfect. He took another longer swallow, and another after that.

"You were amazing," Emrys was saying in his ear. "Everything I needed."

"Was I?" Arthur said absently. Emrys kissed the space below his ear.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

Arthur glanced at him over his shoulder and then back down to his tea.

"You don't have to be sorry."

Emrys wrapped his arms around Arthur. Pressed his face into his throat from behind him.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'll comp you the night."

Arthur huffed, irritated.

"It's not about the money, Emrys."

Emrys was quiet before he continued.

"There are things in my life that are so big and so overwhelming...that they consume me some days. And when that happens, I need someone to white out the noise in my head. It's been so long since I was with anyone I thought could do it that I got selfish. I didn't think it would be difficult for you."

Arthur stared into his half empty mug. Processed what Emrys had just told him. That he had pushed Arthur because he felt safe doing so with him. Not because it was just something he craved some times. Not because it was something he could get with just any Dom. It was something he needed, and he was sure Arthur could give it to him.

Arthur closed his eyes. Felt suddenly warm.

"I didn't mean to blindside you like that," Emrys said. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop you, because it was perfect, but I should have. I should have been paying closer attention."

Arthur took one of Emrys's hands from around his shoulders. Kissed it. Kissed his bruised wrist. He was so deeply touched to know that Emrys watched him as closely as he watched Emrys when they were playing together. That he recognized Arthur's top drop before Arthur had.

"It's okay," Arthur said gently. "It will pass."

It did, but slowly. They showered. Emrys let him tend to his many, many wounds. And then they both got under the covers, and Merlin wrapped him up in all of his long limbs, so that Arthur could press his cheek against Emrys's warm, damp skin. He drifted while Emrys pressed his thumbs into his temples, his jaw. Massaged his brow and his scalp, kissing his forehead. Pinched the back of his neck and massaged gently until Arthur was making involuntary, pleased sounds in the back of his throat.

"You said you didn't need to know why," Emrys said quietly after the silence had stretched on. Arthur blinked.

"I didn't," he answered into Emrys's sternum, kissing him there. "I don't need to know anything you aren't comfortable with telling me.'

"What was it then?" Emrys said gently.

Arthur closed his eyes. Pressed his nose into Emrys's chest.

"You were speaking to me as two people, when we started. As both yourself, and Emrys. It was hard for me to get my bearings when you did that. Hard for me to tell if it was still part of the game, or if you were truly angry with me over something I did."

Emrys pressed his face into the top of Arthur's head, running his hands through his hair as Arthur continued.

"But that, I think I could have let go. It was hard to be sure about your motives, but you seem to be very clear about what you want when we play."

"My motives?"

"I wasn't sure if you were displacing real anger on me to get me to lash out, or if you were venting your frustration in an exaggerated way, to move the scene along."

Emrys was quiet at that. His fingers were cool on the back of Arthur's hot neck.

"And now?"

"Now I think I understand better, what happened. But I don't know that I can be prepared for that, again. It felt too much like we were having it out on each other, for real."

Emrys let out a breath. Turned his cheek against Arthur's hair.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Arthur wanted to tell him it was alright, that these things happen...they were _bound_ to happen. But he was still feeling unbalanced, and unsure, himself.

"Are you entirely uncomfortable with playing that hard?" Emrys said.

"No," Arthur replied, maybe a little too quickly. He felt Emrys smile against his hair.

"Then what if, in the future, if I feel like playing hard, or if you do, we can signal it somehow? At the start of the scene?"

Arthur looked up at him thoughtfully, propping his chin up on Emrys's chest so that he could see him better.

"Like what?"

"Like..." Emrys, looked down at Arthur. Gave it some thought. "Like, I'll start the scene kneeling by the foot of the bed with my back to the door. And I won't even greet you when you come in."

That was a fairly easy signal to interpret.

"Okay, that would work."

"And you..." Merlin tilted his head. Ran his fingers through Arthur's bangs. "Slam the door when you come in."

Arthur chuckled. It was fitting, in a way.

"Okay?" Emrys confirmed.

"Okay," Arthur breathed.

They lay in silence for a long time after that. Until Emrys reached down under the covers between them, took Arthur's warm hand, and placed it on top of the thigh he had draped over Arthur's hip.

"What you wrote here," Emrys whispered. "Why did you do it?"

"I'm sorry it's in permanent marker," Arthur said. "I should have asked."

Emrys shook his head a little, his hand still holding Arthur's over the words he'd written on his pale skin.

"I don't mind. It just...surprised me. No one's ever done anything like that before."

Arthur debated with himself. He could lie. Say it was just a part of the scene. Certainly that would make things easier for both of them. And maybe it was that he was feeling more vulnerable than usual, or the fact that Emrys had cried so hard when he'd done it, or that he was finally feeling at ease for the first time that night, but Arthur just told the truth.

"Whatever it was that made you need this," he said, running his hands along the bruises on the backs of Emrys's thighs. "Must have been hard to hold on to during the day. I just thought I would remind you otherwise, so the next time you have to carry that anger, you'll remember this..." He slid his hand back off of Emrys's bruises. Covered the words he'd written in permanent marker with his fingers again. Merlin sucked in a breath against his mouth when he did. "And maybe it will be a little easier knowing..."

"Knowing what?" Emrys said.

"Knowing that I think you're exceptional."

Emrys kissed him then, moaning into Arthur's mouth as Arthur rolled on top of him, still covering the words with his hand on Emrys's thigh. They fucked, wrapped up in each other on the bed, a slow, indulgent love making, as though they had all the time in the world. Arthur slid into Emrys like he was made to fit there, draped his long leg over Arthur's strong shoulder as he rolled his hips, pressing deeper inside of Emrys, so that he could see the words written there. Arthur kissed Emrys's bruised knee, and built up a slow burning tidal wave between them, listening to Emrys cry out his name, watch the flush spreading along his neck, and pretend...

For just a moment.

That it wasn't all a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, you also know how it came to be that the phrase these two share, _'How exceptional you are'_ is really their strange way of saying, 
> 
> _'I love you.'_
> 
> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	9. Before Arthur, After Arthur - RavenGirl42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a lot with the summary for this chapter because it encompasses a lot. This is a scene requested by the lovely **RavenGirl42**. There were a few requests to tackle, and so I tried to write a little more from Merlin and Arthur's time at Excalibur, in the beginning of their time together, before Merlin knew Arthur was a Pendragon, and before Arthur knew his real name. I imagine this happening sometime before the stage fiasco at the downstairs club at Excalibur. 
> 
> So this is a scene entirely told from Merlin's perspective, with a little bit thrown in about Merlin's other clients and a conversation about why Arthur is good for Merlin and why he sees Arthur differently from the others. 
> 
> Honestly I'm worried it got a little muddled up there at the end. But this chapter was a treat for me to write, because honestly until your request came in, Raven, it genuinely never occurred to me that I hadn't yet managed to write a scene entirely inside of Merlin's head. It was a genuine challenge! Merlin's inner monologue is sometimes heavy and convoluted. But I hope Merlin's voice came across without being wildly different from the original narrative. I really enjoyed writing out of Merlin's head for a while, and I hope you enjoy it to! Thank you so much for your requests and as always, stay safe and be kind. I'll be back soon 💋

* * *

For Merlin, before Arthur, there were only two types of clients: the ones he was generally indifferent towards, and the ones that made him wary. Alvarr one of the latter.

Alvarr had never done anything to Merlin outside of their agreement, he'd warned Merlin a time or two even, when he'd been planning to introduce a new dynamic into their time together. So if he were to explain Alvarr to someone out loud, they wouldn't understand why Merlin was wary of him.

It was something in his face, in his tone, the way he spoke to Merlin. The way he always seemed to manage to hit Merlin at least once a session with excessive force. He had never bodily harmed Merlin. But there were plenty of times when Alvarr had struck him that went past any point of pleasure and right into _hurt_.

The problem was, he couldn't tell if Alvarr was doing it because he got off on it, or if he was just lost in the moment.

He was in sharp contrast to the woman he'd seen earlier that morning, who called herself Krista, and just wanted someone to be good for her for a few hours. This was the part of his job he enjoyed the most. Divining the one thing that each of his clients needed, and delivering it eagerly.

For Alvarr, what he needed was someone to submit unconditionally. To not speak, ever, and Merlin could do that. Had done for months now. And really it was fine, especially on the days Merlin needed to get roughed up a bit. God knew he'd had plenty of those days.

But while Alvarr was busy trying (unsuccessfully) to fuck him into the mattress, all Merlin could think about was something Arthur had said to him weeks ago, when Merlin had sprung a rough scene on him.

_"I'm not going to hit you because you bullied me into it."_

He lifted his hips a little, trying to help Alvarr find a better angle. He got a sharp slap on his thigh for his efforts.

"You'll take it how I give it to you, slut," he groaned into Merlin's ear his chest pressed uncomfortably into Merlin's back and shoulders, pushing him down into the mattress.

He wasn't aroused by Alvarr or his dirty talk, but when he had sex with someone he generally tried to enjoy it in some fashion. It seemed like a waste otherwise. And although he was hard he just wasn't getting anywhere. Alvarr was a weight deep inside him but the only sensation Merlin really felt was pressure. There was nothing exciting about it.

He pressed his forehead into the mattress. Gave a few short moans for good measure. Alvarr began moving faster, bolstered by the sounds he was making.

And then Alvarr shifted, and dug his knee into Merlin's calf.

Merlin jerked forward with Alvarr's next thrust, his chest and shoulders coming up off the mattress, a shout caught in his throat.

"Hey -!" Merlin gasped out when it was clear it hadn't been a mistake, Alvarr was planning to leave his knee right where he'd put it until he was finished.

Alvarr cuffed him across his ass, startling him.

He tightened his fists in the bedclothes. Lowered his head between his shoulders as Alvarr pounded into him, harder now. Chasing something.

"You're hurting me," Merlin said through clenched teeth.

"That's what I pay you for," Alvarr said unkindly.

Now the sounds Merlin was making weren't entirely fake. He was gasping out pained cries with every thrust and Alvarr was bearing down on him now, one of his hands pressed hard into Merlin's hair. Nails digging into Merlin's scalp. Not pulling. Just holding him in place.

"Alvarr!" Merlin shouted, his expression all screwed up. He needed it to stop but if he stopped he wouldn't get paid. All he could do was try to distract Alvarr from continuing to dig his knee into Merlin's tight calf.

He needn't have worried. Alvarr mistook his shout for one of pleasure and with a groan into Merlin's bent spine, came hard, his whole body sagging on top of Merlin like a deflated pool floatie. Finally letting his knee slide off of Merlin's calf, making him hiss in protest. He felt Alvarr smile against his shoulder.

Merlin lay there, wondering if it was worth it to ask Alvarr why he'd bruised him so badly, why he hadn't mentioned it to Merlin beforehand, when Alvarr rolled off of him and told him to clean up so he could have the room.

Merlin smiled politely and stood to get dressed.

By the time he had made it down to the lockers to get in a shower and maybe a nap before Arthur came by, he felt heavy.

The bruise on his calf was enormous.

It was stupid to feel so lousy after such an uninspired romp with a client he wasn't even remotely attracted to. It wasn't even a kink scene - sure Alvarr spanked him but lots of guys did that. As far as these things went Alvarr was pretty vanilla with his, ' _You'll take what I give you and like it, slut_ ', attitude. Maybe it was the way Alvarr had bruised his calf, or his indifference or the whole thing that made Merlin feel inadequate. Like he had done something wrong and hadn't been given a chance to fix it.

He knew it was ludacris. He'd done his job. Alvarr was satisfied. There was nothing to be ashamed about.

Oh _God_ but he needed someone else to say it. He needed to be good for someone. Badly.

So when Arthur came to him that night, Merlin tried not to fall to his knees a little too obviously. Sank down onto his heels with his hands trailing the backs of Arthur's thighs, his calves, and kept his eyes on the floor.

Arthur reached down slowly. Cupped Merlin's chin in his fingers and tilted his head up. Merlin let his gaze lift to Arthur's and willed him to understand. He was addicted, because Arthur always seemed to be able to see right through him, and he needed that tonight. And he knew it was insane and probably unhealthy, and definitely unfair to be seeking aftercare like this, but he couldn't help himself, when it came to Arthur.

He'd been indifferent to Krista and wary of Alvarr but Arthur had become a new category of client in Merlin's exceptional brain. One only Arthur inhabited.

His Dom.

"Look at you," Arthur said softly. There was reverence in the way he said it. _Look at_ you. Like Merlin had already given Arthur the world, just coming down on his knees at Arthur's feet.

It felt like that, to him sometimes. Like he could conjure stars down from the sky if Arthur asked him to.

"Hello, Arthur," he said.

Arthur smiled. Turned away to hang his coat up, and Merlin let his hands fall back to his lap and waited patiently for Arthur to come back to him.

He did turn, but stayed out of arms reach. Merlin had to suppress a whine, surprising himself. Arthur circled him, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Just...looking.

When he came back at last to facing Merlin, he was still too far away to touch and he was drawing his index finger across his lips, thinking to himself. Merlin recognized that look. It was the look Arthur got when he was reorganizing his plans in his head. Merlin had to suppress a shudder of relief.

Arthur understood.

He always understood.

"Come here, Emrys," Arthur said.

He rose to his feet and closed the distance between them, silently waiting. For a long time Arthur didn't move.

"How well you listen for me," Arthur said. The words flooded Merlin's chest. "Do you want to play a game, Emrys? To see just how well you can listen for me?"

_Yes_. Yes. This is what he needed. He needed someone to engage. To give him a challenge, give him the chance to prove he could rise to it. To see him.

Really see him.

Merlin had to swallow hard before he could respond.

"Yes," he said. "Please?"

Arthur tilted his chin up again, catching Merlin's eyes with a smirk.

"And polite, too?" He said, as if he were surprised.

Actually, now that Merlin had a chance to think it over he might genuinely be shocked. Merlin had been a complete and utter brat for the last few weeks. Hardly a paragon of subservience.

He lowered his eyes. Blushed.

"This game is going to be hard for you," Arthur said without preamble, against Merlin's parted lips. He didn't entirely close the distance between them. He was only brushing Merlin's mouth with his own, testing him, seeing if he would move if Arthur teased him. Merlin held still. Only maybe he tilted his head a little, when Arthur put his hand on his cheek. Pressed his thumb to Merlin's bottom lip as he continued.

"But you've already been so good for me."

Merlin whimpered. He tried to stop it but it was pointless.

"Oh," Arthur breathed, shifting a little closer but still not touching him. It made Merlin hot all over. "Do you want the chance to be good for me tonight, Emrys?"

It was embarrassing still to him somehow, saying it, out loud. Admitting that he just wanted someone to tell him he was good. His answer shuddered out of him.

"Please, Arthur?"

Arthur smiled and Merlin could feel it barely, against his own mouth. At some point he had closed his eyes. Desperately tried not to lean just a few centimeters forward, not to reach out and take, but wait for what was given to him.

"That was very good, Emrys," Arthur said, when he hadn't moved a muscle.

And then Arthur was leaning in, and Merlin leaned back abruptly making Arthur pause.

"Can I touch you when you kiss me?" Merlin said pathetically.

Arthur made a show of giving it some thought. Merlin held his breath.

"This time," Arthur said.

And when he leaned in for a kiss, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, felt the crisp collar of Arthur's button up brushing against his biceps, the insides of his elbows, he tilted his head and let Arthur take what he wanted, how he wanted it, because Merlin knew Arthur would never try to take anything from him that he didn't have the strength to give.

He moaned into Arthur's mouth, hyper focused on Arthur's hands on his bare waist, holding his ribcage in the palms of his hands.

Jesus fuck, he was already hard.

Arthur drew out the parting of their kiss. Made Merlin chase him for it. And when it was finally over he brushed Merlin's hair out of his face, ran his fingers through his black curls.

"Come on then," Arthur said, turning Merlin toward the cabinet on the wall by the bed where the toys Arthur had requested were kept. "Let's see how long you can keep this up."

He opened the cabinet.

Merlin stared into the cabinet as Arthur reached around him, drawing his hand along all the objects inside.

The first was a plug. They'd used one like it before - a heavier vibrating model specifically designed for prostate stimulation.

The second was the Hitachi. Arthur let his fingers pass over it to the third.

Merlin had never used this toy before, but he knew what it did. Sitting on the shelf it stood in a kind of wavy L shape, the head of it rounded and the base of the L curved upwards and ribbed. It was designed to be seated fully inside, with the base pressed against the perineum, and cradling the balls. It had a remote, so it moved or vibrated or both, and when Merlin watched Arthur's fingers pass over this particular toy, he swallowed.

Hard.

Arthur's fingers stopped.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_.

"Take off your pants," he said low in Merlin's ear. "Stand by the side of the bed."

Merlin glanced at Arthur over his shoulder for a split second, just a quick moment of connection, as if his entire body wasn't humming with anticipation, with lust, with a certain amount of desirable dread. He looked at Arthur as if to say, 'Yeah, sure if you want. No big deal.'

It was a very big deal.

Then Merlin lowered his gaze again and turned to the bed to do as he'd been instructed.

He'd had good sexual encounters before as a sex worker. It was bound to happen from time to time. And really, given _almost_ any circumstance, Merlin could find something enjoyable in most of the clients he worked with. But the fact was that he wasn't paid to orgasm. He was paid to make someone _else_ orgasm. So really, his pleasure didn't factor into the equation.

And then there was Arthur, who seemed determined to test Merlin's highly cultivated libido at every opportunity he had.

And Merlin, _loved_ it.

So when Arthur bent him over the edge of the bed by the back of his neck and worked him open with his free hand, Merlin moaned and meant it. Arthur's hands on his shoulders and neck and in his hair were always firm. There was an undeniable authority to the way he put his hands on Merlin in the context of their scenes together. But never at any point did Merlin feel like Arthur would force him down if he didn't want it. If he sat up now, put just a little resistance against the palm of Arthur's hand, he would let go. Merlin marveled at the feeling. Relaxed, hot and pliant under Arthur's steady fingers.

Arthur gave a small noise of appreciation and the sound rang against Merlin's bones. It made the room hazy around the edges, and Merlin lifted the corners of his lips up into a dreamy, half-cocked smile.

He was good, he knew he was.

He would prove it, too.

He was so relaxed and so fucking aroused that he didn't even realize Arthur had seated the toy inside of him until he felt the base of it press into his perineum, Arthur's fingers grazing the insides of his thighs. He closed his eyes.

"On your knees," Arthur said.

Merlin pushed himself upright, and hesitated before straightening to gauge the weight of the toy. But it didn't budge as he stepped back and lowered himself onto his knees. He shuddered when he sat back on his heels, the toy pressing in deeper, the base of it more firmly pressed against him. Flush to every part of him inside and out.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, knees wide, giving space enough for Merlin's shoulders and cupped the back of Merlin's head in his warm palm.

"Comfortable?" He said.

And this, Merlin could never understand, because frankly, who cared if he was comfortable? He was a prostitue, he wasn't anyone's companion. But the way Arthur looked at him when he said it, made Merlin believe he meant it. It was the push he needed to fall off the edge into the high, high, high bloom of subspace, where all his pain, all his pleasure belonged to Arthur, and there was nothing but his desire to serve and be worthy of it.

God it was like tasting starlight.

"I'm comfortable," he said quietly.

"Good," Arthur smiled. Then he said,

"Can you move closer for me?"

An old line from a movie he'd been obsessed with as a kid jumped into Merlin's head.

_Move? If you want I could fly._

Merlin moved closer to the bed between Arthur's legs. Felt the press of Arthur's knees against the outsides of his arms. He felt hot all over. Without being told, which was probably not what he should have done but, come on, it was right there and he wanted it, so he reached for Arthur's button up and gently pulled it out of his waistband before he began undoing Arthur's belt with quick fingers.

He could read people too, after all.

Especially Arthur.

And Arthur didn't stop him so he knew he'd been right when he set the belt aside and unzipped Arthur's trousers.

Arthur smiled down at him when he glanced up, looking for permission to continue.

"Go on," Arthur said.

Arthur was hard. He was just as hard as Merlin was and they hadn't even done anything yet. It felt so good not to have to work him up. He didn't know if it was the toys or a man on his knees that did it for Arthur and he could give a fuck less, seriously, how could anything feel this good?

He took Arthur into his mouth, surged forward when Arthur moaned for him _for him_ and took him into the back of his throat. He was good at this too, and he wasn't intimidated by rough oral sex which he had fully expected from Arthur given the circumstance of the game, so he was surprised and somehow even _more_ turned on when he swallowed around the heavy weight of Arthur on his tongue only to be caught by the hair, and stopped from moving.

He gripped both of Arthur's thighs in his hands.

"Don't move unless it's to use your safeword. Do you understand?"

Merlin nodded as best he could.

"You won't come until I tell you you're ready to come. Do you you understand?"

Merlin whimpered, but nodded.

"Good," Arthur said.

And turned on the toy.

Oh Jesus _God_ what the actual _fuck_ how had he never played with anything like this before in his _life_? Merlin moaned around Arthur's cock, his fingers fisting in the fabric of of Arthur's trousers but these were all ancillary moments to the shear wave of pleasure coursing through him now. It was everywhere. Inside him, outside of him, pressing against his balls, and Arthur's hard dick just resting against the back of his throat fuckfuckfuck he wasn't going to win this game.

He swallowed again and Arthur groaned, the hand in his hair tightening involuntarily.

Arthur turned up the toy.

The base of it was vibrating with an opposing pulse to the head of it, pressed against his prostate. He let out a pitiful whine. The change in rhythm was disrupting his rise to orgasm. And Arthur wasn't moving but it still all felt so. Damn. Good.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked nonchalantly. "I thought you would be happy if I helped."

Merlin huffed, and it should have been weird, it was probably very weird that the two of them could joke like this and understand each other while one of them was rendered entirely mute by the other ones hard cock in his mouth. Arthur brushed a thumb below Merlin's eye. Watched him for the space of another breath and then turned the toy up again.

Merlin almost choked himself when he jerked forward, startled by the intensity of the vibrations, the head of Arthur's cock hitting the back of his throat. But he didn't gag, and Arthur moaned again and so did Merlin because oh God he was so close, how had he only just noticed how close he was? He dug his nails into Arthur's thighs, squeezed his eyes closed because he knew he wasn't going to win this game but he wanted to, he really did and -

Arthur turned the toy off so suddenly that Merlin let out a muffled cry of relief, sagging a little between Arthur's thighs. He was vaguely aware that he was shaking.

And Arthur, still hard and still inside of Merlin's mouth, dragged his nails down Merlin's bare back. His shoulders. Up the back of his neck and into his hair.

Merlin had to close his eyes. He was making noises even he didn't recognize against Arthur's hot skin. And then Arthur took him by his hair, and gently pulled him back.

Merlin was almost sorry to let Arthur's cock out of his mouth.

He was dazed when Arthur tilted his head up to look at him. He was sure he was a mess, but Arthur didn't look like he cared.

"Color, Emrys?" He said.

"Green," he managed quietly.

"You did everything I asked," Arthur said. "You were so good for me."

Merlin let out a shuddering breath. Tried to organize his thoughts but he didn't think they were very coherent to begin with, anymore.

Arthur leaned down, said against his mouth.

"You have my permission to come, Emrys."

Suddenly, the remote for the toy in Arthur's hand clicked.

Merlin bowed back, his mouth open, throat bared, and Arthur took his face in his hands, and Merlin was holding onto his wrists, trying not to scream at the top of his voice because he really, really could have, but if anyone interrupted them now he might die of disappointment. He writhed, and Arthur was watching, and something about that made Merlin's whole body lock up one vertebrae at a time until he couldn't move if he tried and Arthur's voice was out there somewhere, telling him he was good, he'd done it all exactly right and Merlin felt the sudden rush of losing all sense of time, a supernova going off at the base of his spine and sucking out all the noise, all the light with it, everything except the feeling of Arthur's hands and the sound of his voice and then

Release.

* * *

When he came back, he was laying on the floor. There was a pillow under his head, and Arthur was talking somewhere above him. He was cold.

He was always cold after a scene ended. He was always cold, period. But he felt it most keenly after he was done with a particularly intense scene. Arthur had covered him with the duvet from the bed, and he was sitting by Merlin's shoulder, running his hands through Merlin's hair.

"...lunch meeting today, which was utter rubbish, I think half of my board thinks I'm still twelve, and the other half just wishes I would sell back the controlling interest in the company so they can do whatever it is they want to do with it. I have half a mind to let them, some days."

"Don't do that," Merlin slurred a little, groping for some part of Arthur he could put his hands on. He squeezed Arthur's knee, making him jump. "Would be a waste."

Arthur huffed a little, running his thumb down Merlin's cheek.

"There you are," he said fondly.

"Here I am," Merlin said, parroting Arthur's tone with a dopey, half drunk smile and it made Arthur laugh which made him instantly, irrationally pleased with himself.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good," he said, stretching out half into Arthur's lap like a cat. Arthur ran his hands under the blanket, all along Merlin's shoulders, his back, making Merlin hum contentedly.

"Can you get up on the bed for me, love?" Arthur asked him after some time had passed, carding his hands through Merlin's hair. "It'll be more comfortable."

Merlin blinked open his eyes.

"Oh we're getting on the bed, sir," Merlin said, low and possessively. "But I'm not sleeping just yet."

He ran his hand up Arthur's untucked shirt, before pushing himself up onto his knees.

"You must be sore," Arthur said, cupping his face and kissing him gently before adding. "I'm happy with this, for tonight. We don't have to do anything else."

"You're still hard," Merlin said, kissing him again a little deeper, a little longer.

"How could I not be?" Arthur said into his mouth, kissing Merlin back, hard, his tongue sliding easily over Merlin's. "You were perfect."

Merlin moaned. Pulled himself up into Arthur's lap so that he wouldn't have to stop kissing him. He had half a mind to just finish this right here, on the floor. They had a pillow and a blanket, after all.

It was rare for him, in any situation, with any client, to drum up the desire to continue a sexual encounter twice in the same session. Usually once he was done, orgasm or no, Merlin had mentally checked out.

And then there was Arthur.

As they kissed and Arthur told him he was still hard because Merlin was so good for him, Merlin felt like there was a balloon inflating in his chest. He still had so much energy, so much energy for _Arthur_ because before Arthur Merlin had clients, and with Arthur Merlin had found someone he wanted to please. After Arthur there would never be another.

And this was really fucking stupid, this was dangerous, in a few hours when he was on the tube heading home he would kick himself, he knew he would, he always did, but he couldn't manage to pull away when Arthur was alone in this room in his arms. Here for him. For no one else.

This man, who had waltzed into his hotel room one completely unremarkable day, who remembered all of his limits and all of his preferences, who made every scene as much about what Merlin needed as he did about what he needed from Merlin. This young business man who had told Merlin earnestly that he'd come to Excalibur because he was lonely, who had real kink experience, who took care of him every step of the way but especially after, content to let Merlin sleep next to him, shower with him. Talk about stupid, shit things. Arthur, like Merlin, drank in every, single, moment they had together. Refused to waste any of it.

They couldn't. It was all either of them had to get to the next Thursday, and the one after that, and the one after that.

Arthur had been curious about his tears during their time together and he hadn't been entirely honest about it. It was true, he didn't like being gawked at when he was crying. He hated the feeling of being made to look foolish. To be jeered at. And he had plenty of clients who enjoyed doing that to him over the years, so he was all too familiar with his own emotional response to humiliation and it wasn't arousal, that was for-fucking-sure.

But by the time Arthur had asked him about it directly, there was more to it than that.

He didn't want Arthur to look him in the eye when he cried during one of their scenes, because he was afraid Arthur would see how much everything he did for Merlin meant to him in this strange-as-shit situation they were in.

No one had ever touched him the way Arthur touched him. After he'd left Ireland Merlin hadn't thought he would ever experience anything like this ever, not in his whole life. And he cried because it was so good and he was so grateful and for the same reason he cried himself to sleep some nights, alone in his apartment thinking about how badly he wished he were good enough to be loved for more than two hours or four hours or eight hours at a time.

He cried because Arthur made him feel like maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was important enough to be seen. Maybe someone already did see him. And it was insane to even think that but sometimes the way Arthur looked at him made him feel like he was the only thing left worth looking at in the entire world.

He would have burned cities down in Arthur's name for just seconds longer of that look.

He jolted out of his thoughts when Arthur reached between them, cupped his balls in his hand and squeezed gently. Merlin hissed around a laugh because Arthur was chuckling at his response too, supporting Merlin's lower back with his other hand. How long had they even been kissing? Merlin had lost track of time again.

"See?" Arthur said. "I think you're a bit overstimulated, love. Anything else is going to hurt."

"Oh," Merlin breathed, cupping Arthur's cheek in one hand, and pressing down on his chest with the other, easing him to the floor on his back so that Merlin could properly straddle his hips. "Don't threaten _me_ with a good time."

And even now, the way Arthur grinned at him, excited by his words and playful and entirely unconcerned that they were only doing this because Arthur was paying for it, made Merlin's throat tight. Once, before Avalon, Merlin had believed in things like relationships and falling in love and building futures. He still mourned those things because he still believed he would never have them. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

He'd been cut up and broken and he was too damaged now for anyone to really love him. He was a prostitue, a PhD dropout, the _definition_ of a person who couldn't finish anything once he'd started.

But if this was the closest he ever got to that place in his mind where he finished his degrees, had a cottage maybe, or even a big flat so long as it had a porch swing, and someone to come home to...

If this was the closest he ever got?

He would be grateful for the time that he had. Even if it was in a hotel room. Even if it he was getting paid.

Arthur never made him felt like there was any money on the table between them. So he could pretend, at least for now, that it was him that mattered to Arthur and not the service.

Tonight when he was on the tube, he wouldn't kick himself. He would give himself until he made it to his front door to imagine what they would look like together, as a couple, if Merlin wasn't a prostitue and he and Arthur had just bumped into each other on the sidewalk. Went for coffee. Fucked for the first time in the back of a car or on Merlin's couch like the proper strangers they, in many ways, still were.

And when he was back in his own bed, alone, he would put all of those thoughts away in a box and bury it somewhere it couldn't be reached.

And as he let Arthur guide him to seat their hips together, Arthur's swollen length filling him finally, Merlin knew it was no use.

He was so fucked.


	10. Sweet Cream - RavenGirl42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin meets Gwen for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here we have another request from **RavenGirl42** who asked for a little more about Merlin and Gwen. 
> 
> Now that I think about it I don't believe you meant Merlin and Gwen in the past but...here we are! Although we've talked a little bit more about Gwen's back story in RN7 I haven't really discussed just how long Merlin and Gwen have known each other. There was a clue way back in Chapter 19, Taste of Gold, but it was veeeeeeeeery sneaky. 
> 
> In any case, I was thinking over more scenes for Merlin and Gwen, trying to think of something that would be interesting to write about and not like...a trip to the grocery or something...when this popped into my head. I hope you enjoy it, even if it wasn't exactly what you were looking for (or maybe it was?)! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your kind words and comments and thank you **RaveGirl42** for your thoughts and your requests and for all of your engagement. It's a joy to write for readers like you. 
> 
> Readers like all of you 💋

* * *

Merlin met Gwen when he was ten years old, at the Armagh Robinson Library where he studied on the weekdays his mother was working. Merlin had tried public school when he was younger, he supposed it would have been easier on his mum if he could have managed it a bit longer, but it only got him into trouble.

Not the kind of trouble people immediately assumed when the thing came up in casual conversation. He wasn't impolite or even that much of a trouble-maker. Maybe a bit of a class clown when the mood struck him. No, what got Merlin into trouble most often was that he had a bad habit of correcting his teachers, especially his Maths and Science teachers. He couldn't help himself. So many of his classmates struggled with the antiquated explanations his teachers were giving to explain what, to Merlin, was very simple. He was sure everyone would do better with a different explanation. One Merlin was confident he could give.

That wasn't exactly how the teachers had seen it and if he were honest, no one in his class seemed particularly interested either. Over time he'd more or less found himself totally isolated from his peers. More and more frequently alone in the library when he should have been in class.

Eventually his mother made the call. She'd home-school him until she could find a better fit. Even at ten Merlin knew that what she meant was _until I can afford to send him somewhere else_. And by home-school him she meant he would be responsible for his own education, if that's how he wanted to do things. The way Hunith explained it, if he wasn't happy with his teachers she certainly didn't have what he needed to succeed in her head alone. So Merlin would need to find brains as big as his to help him along, and she would give him all the tools he needed to succeed along the way.

All of that made perfect sense to Merlin.

Hence, the library.

And Merlin had spent so many hours in all the libraries he had access to - there weren't many, honestly, within walking distance of his mother's shoppe - so for his birthday this year she had gotten him a bus pass so he could find other libraries that weren't _too far_ but too far to walk and to keep him from getting too couped up in the winter. He loved it. It was hard backed and had his picture on it and his mother had made him a macrame loop for it so he could slip it over his wrist or clip it to his coat when he left the house.

The thread she used was red and gold and steel blue and something about that combination of colors made Merlin feel happy just to look at them. Maybe if he asked she would paint him a new label for his tea tin in these colors.

He had his bus pass with him today but he hadn't used it. It was a rare warm day in November and there was sun on the road and Merlin loved to walk. Usually he loved to read too, but today he was distracted for some reason. He was tapping his pencil on his notebook when the librarian aide on duty came up to his little table by the window. His name was Kelly and Merlin was certain he was in love with him. As certain as a ten year old can be about love, in any case.

Kelly was a footballer and a junior in his class and he helped out at the public library during his free days. He had black hair and dark eyes and his skin was the color of his mother's breakfast tea and sweet cream.

With him, was a girl about Merlin's age.

"Emmy, this is Gwen. Can you show her about for me? I'm a bit busy at the moment."

"Sure," Merlin said, maybe a little too quickly, his cheeks hot at the sound of the ridiculous nickname Kelly used for him. No one in the whole world called him Emmy except this boy, who had seen his middle name on his library card application and chuckled a little to himself at how thorough Merlin had been in filling it out.

"Emrys? That's an odd name," he'd said, not unkindly. "Reminds me of something."

"It means eternal," Merlin had blurted out. Kelly had glanced up at him. Given him a warm smile.

Now Kelly was waving and headed off, back to the front desk, leaving Merlin with the girl, Gwen.

Merlin watched Kelly go a bit too long before turning back to her. Gwen smiled.

She had a sweet face, dark skin and dark eyes, her hair plaited in two full braids that started at her hairline and cascaded down the backs of her shoulders. She was gripping the strap of a crossbody bag that was entirely too large for her but it was her jumper that made Merlin smile back.

It had a big green dinosaur on it, chomping on the sentences written across the blue fabric that read:

> Let's eat kids.  
>  Let's eat, kids.  
>  (Commas save lives.)

"I like your jumper," Merlin said.

"Thanks!" Gwen said so cheerfully it actually startled Merlin. "It was a gift from my dad because I like reading so much. Not that he doesn't like to read too..."

She was rambling and Merlin smiled wider as he stood from his little table.

"I'm Merlin," he said, cutting her off gently. "Gwen was it?"

She nodded but looked a little confused.

"The aide called you Emmy," she said bluntly.

Merlin blushed again.

"Oh, that's because of my middle name. Emrys."

She smiled and tilted her head.

"Which do you like better?"

Merlin gave it some thought. No one had ever asked him anything like that before.

"Merlin," he said.

"Okay Merlin," she held out her hand very formally. He took it and shook once. "Now we're friends."

Merlin blinked.

Was that how people made friends? By shaking hands?

While he showed Gwen around the library, she talked about her dad. She wasn't from Ireland, but Merlin had seen that coming a mile away - he wasn't sure exactly what part of the UK she was from originally, but she didn't carry any of the rolling Irish lilt in her accent at all.

Her dad was a restorationist of medieval metallurgy and they were in Armagh for his work. Merlin thought that was just about the coolest thing he'd ever heard anyone say and she carried on like it was no big deal. They sat in the history section and Merlin pulled down a book about blacksmithing and Gwen pointed out the parts of the armor and swords and all sorts of things her father helped restore.

By the time the four o'clock bell had chimed Merlin had completely forgotten what he had been studying that day or even to show Gwen how to fill out an application for a library card.

He hesitated in the middle of his sentence listening to the bell. He would have to leave soon if he was going to make it back home in time for supper. Gwen propped her chin on her hand, waiting for him to continue.

"Problem?" She asked finally.

"No, it's just that I walked today so I should be packing up soon."

Gwen nodded, pushing herself up off the floor.

"Let's get you packed up then," she said.

He stood and followed her out into the lobby, back to his little table where he'd left his piles of notebooks and borrowed volumes.

"But we haven't filled out your application for a library card yet," he said seriously. Gwen grinned over her shoulder at him.

"We can do it later. It will be too dark for you to walk soon."

Merlin didn't think so. He wasn't afraid of the dark. But he didn't want to come home late _again_ because he'd (sometimes willfully) lost track of time.

"What about you?" He said, shoving all his books back into his bag unceremoniously. Gwen watched with horrified interest as he folded papers, stuffed them into books. Tossed pencils into the bottom of his bag.

"My dad will pick me up tonight. He should be done around eight."

Merlin frowned.

"But the library will be closed by then."

She shrugged. "It's warm. I'll sit on the bench outside."

"Come to my house," he said impulsively.

"It's okay," she said. "I shouldn't."

"It's not far," Merlin said. "You can meet my mum and we can call your dad and if you want I can teach you how to play chopsticks on the piano."

Gwen laughed. It made Merlin blush.

"Okay," she said. "I'll come over if you do me a favor."

Merlin zipped up his bag.

"A favor?"

"Take this book out for me?" She said, reaching into her bag and holding it up for him to see.

"The Mists of Avalon?" Merlin said, taking the book from her. It was massive, it felt like a concrete block in his small hands.

"What's it about?" He said, looking up from the cover.

"It's about King Arthur's legend," she said. "Told by the women in his life."

Merlin grinned.

* * *

Merlin burst through the shop door with Gwen in tow, calling out over the bell ringing above the door.

"Mum? Can Gwen stay for supper?"

Hunith turned, blinking down at the two children, her hand halfway to putting her new sets of tea tins on the shelf overhead.

Wyllt chuckled to himself and tipped his hat to Hunith as he collected his purchases from the counter.

"I'll be off then," he said. "Good evening to you all."

Gwen smiled shyly at Hunith as she came down from her stool.

"Certainly," she smiled bending down to take Gwen's hand. "I'm Merlin's mum. Please call me Hunith."

"Gwen," she said with a smile. "Merlin said I could use your phone."

"Of course," Hunith said. "It's by the register dear. There's a stool by the counter if you need it to reach."

When Gwen had hopped up to call her father, Hunith lowered herself to her son's line of sight, crouching down on the well worn wood floor to look him in the eye when she spoke.

"Where did you meet Gwen, love?"

"At the library," he said quickly. "She's by herself until eight and I just thought it would be better if she wasn't waiting at the library alone for her dad. She said we were friends."

Hunith's gaze softened. She put a hand on her son's cheek, brushing his hair back behind his ears.

"Okay my love, but what if Gwen's father had come by early?"

Merlin glanced away and then back to his mum.

"Don't you think he would be worried if she wasn't where she was supposed to be?"

"Yes," he said, eventually. He fidgeted with the straps of his bag, huffing a little in distress.

"That's right," she said gently. "I know I would be worried, if I came looking for you, and you weren't where you said you'd be."

Merlin nodded. Behind them he could hear Gwen talking to her father.

"Next time, love, how would you solve this problem?"

Merlin looked at Gwen over his mother's shoulder, then back to Hunith's warm eyes.

"I would...ask the library if we could use the phone behind the desk? And have Gwen call first?"

Hunith smiled.

"That's a good plan," she said. "Think through all of your options, Merlin. Remember for me?"

Merlin nodded, but he felt a bit cowed. Hunith eyed him for a moment longer before leaning in to whisper conspiratorially,

"Friends are special occasions, I think. Should we break out the last of summer sweet cream?"

Merlin beamed. Although he was more or less independent about his own education, his mother wasn't an absent participant. She'd taught him over the summer how to make ice cream, about how salt is the key ingredient, not in the actual ice cream, but in the process of making it. The salt lowers the temperature water freezes at, so with salt ice will melt even when the temperature is below the normal freezing point of water. Combining salt _and_ ice makes all the ingredients cold enough to harden and take on a solid form rather than a liquid one.

His mother called it freezing-point depression and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was actually magic and his mother was probably a fairy queen.

She kissed him on the forehead and stood, just as Gwen called out.

"Can you speak to my dad for a minute Ms. Hunith?"

"Just Hunith, dear," she smiled, heading for the phone.

As Gwen hopped down Merlin stared at her, excited and suddenly a little at a loss having someone in his house who wanted to play with him.

He needn't have worried. And he never did, again.

"Should we start with a tour?" Gwen said cheerfully. "You owe me one since we stopped after one aisle in the library."

Merlin grinned wide, blue eyes bright in the last of the evening sunlight coming in through the windows.

"Do you like ice cream?"


	11. Kings and Queens and Memories - Shana_Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wyllt stops by Hunith's tea shoppe in the summer, looking for cold teas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter of RRM was requested by the lovely **Shana_Rose** who asked me to write a piece about Wyllt coming to visit and Merlin doing things off in the background. I had a lot of fun with this one! But a quick explanation is in order, for anyone who missed my notes on Wyllt in RN7. 
> 
> Wyllt is a character I dreamed up after the Welsh version of Merlin, Myrddin Wyllt. He has popped in and out of the story here and there and in a lot of ways he is also my version of Merlin's old man visage in the BBC series, Dragoon the Great. That being said, this story is not actually a reincarnation AU, so take all that with a grain of salt. But it was fun to weave a little more mystery into Wyllt's character with this little snippet. 
> 
> So thank you, **Shana_Rose** for making this request and for all your lovely comments. I hope you enjoy this one!
> 
> As always, stay safe and be kind, and I'll be back soon 💋

* * *

Hunith smiled at Wyllt as he came through the door of her shop, the bell outside ringing gently. He was laughing, swinging his arms up out of the way as Merlin and Gwen came ducking in at the same time, brushing by him into the back room.

Hunith rolled her eyes. But there was a fond smile there as she watched the children, cheeks flushed with the first of the summer heat just beginning to settle on the moor, in search of cold tea, she suspected.

"Afternoon Hunith," Wyllt said, tipping his hat off and tucking it under his arm.

She accepted the kiss he gave her on her cheek and looked him over. Behind her there was a rattling of China from the back room, and a burst of childish laughter which she dutifully ignored.

"How are you Wyll?" She said. There were a few others in the shop today, finding shade in their daily rounds.

"Oh fine. Just got back from Camlan this week. I could use a pick-me-up. Have you put out your cold teas for the summer yet?"

She came around the counter with him, gesturing to her newly decorated shelf, which Gwen and Merlin had helped her with. They'd hung strings of brightly colored paper flowers in garlands along the cabinet. She'd cut and molded the flowers and then handed them off to the children in her gallery with her paints. She could tell immediately which flowers Gwen had painted, in subtle shades she'd watered down and carefully accented with metallics and glitter. Merlin's flowers were painted with bold and powerful colors, reds and sky blue and yellow orange. They looked lovely against her tea tins. This year she had decided on sea foam greens and golds with white oval stickers for her paintings to accent her cold tea brews. It was a specialty of hers for the hot summer months. And at Merlin's suggestion, she had even packaged some of them into bundles along with ice trays in the shape of stars. One of the girls down the lane owned a bakery shop, which included all kinds of molds for cookies and chocolates, and had offered them up at a discount, when she had heard what Hunith wanted with them.

"These are new," Wyllt said admiringly, picking up the little bundle, wrapped in ribbon. "What's this for?" He tapped the little tray.

"Ice cubes," Hunith said proudly. "It was Merlin's idea. If you steep yourself a pot of this, then use some for the ice tray. Then the next time, plain ice won't water down your tea."

Wyllt laughed. It was a warm expression, rounded and full. Hunith loved to hear it.

"What a clever colt," Wyllt said. "Any new flavors this year?"

Hunith hummed a little, reaching for a tin that was a pastel grey green, the color of dried eucalyptus, accented with silver rather than gold, and pulled it down. This cold tea she called 'Royal Chi Lowen', 'Royal House of Joy' in Cornish Gaelic.

At least she hoped it was. She'd never been particularly proficient at Gaelic. But she liked the sound of it, when she said it out loud.

It was made with lemongrass, black current and vanilla, and when it steeped it made her think of sugar cookies with lemon icing and summer fields.

"This one is new," she said, handing it to him. He took the tin and studied it.

"House of Joy," he said with a smile, and Hunith breathed a discrete sigh of relief that she hadn't butchered the spelling. "I like the sound of that."

Behind them came a resounding crash that made Hunith start. Wyllt lifted his eyebrows as she jogged for the back room, and followed her, the tin still clutched in his hands.

Merlin was struggling up from the floor, a look of childish hurt on his sweet face. He wasn't crying, but Hunith knew from experience that if she made a fuss, it was likely he would. There was an over-turned chair nearby, and she could guess that he'd been reaching for the biscuits she kept on the high shelf for when she gave out samples of her tea. Gwen was kneeling on the floor looking shaken.

"Oh my love," she said, lowering herself to the floor. Merlin frowned and avoided her eyes and she could see that through his embarrassment he was struggling to put his weight down on both his hands. "Are you hurt?"

He shook his head, glancing at Wyllt and then at Gwen before his solemn blue eyes tracked back to hers.

"Sorry," he said quietly. She brushed his hair back from his face.

"I'll help them straighten up back here," Wyllt said, setting the tin on one of her spare counters. "I think I hear Mrs. Dark jingling around there at the checkout."

Hunith sighed and stood slowly, eyeing Merlin once more before she turned to check on her customers with a grateful glance at the older man.

Wyllt crouched down when she'd gone. Reached out a gentle hand to Gwen, who took it uncertainly.

"Hello Miss," he said. "I'm Wyllt or Wyll. Whichever you like. A friend of Hunith's. And you're a friend of Merlin's?"

She smiled a little, reassured. "Gwenevere," she said.

"Oh aye now, is that right?" Wyllt said and then stood with a bow. "Most gracious Queen of Camelot there ever was."

Gwen's eyes sparkled. Merlin gave a little snort and tucked his legs underneath him. Wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

"Was there more than one? Queen of Camelot, I mean?"

"Certainly," Wyllt said. "There was the lady Morganna, before her, and Arthur's mother before that, Ygraine. But first we should have a look at your friend's hand."

Merlin started, drew back when Wyllt reached for him.

"It's fine," he said. "It's nothing."

Gwen put a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and he reluctantly held out his wrist for Wyllt.

The old man was gentle, taking Merlin's fingers in his hand and turning his arm over. His wrist and palm were bruised, but there was no swelling. Likely he had thrown out his hand to stop his fall and cuffed it hard against the floor.

"You'll be right as rain in a few days, once you've had some ice for it. Let's get you some, and I'll tell you about the Queens of Camelot, far more feirce and powerful than any of her Kings."

Gwen hopped up, excited, and Merlin let Wyllt take him under the arms to put him back on his feet.

"But I thought King Arthur was the greatest ruler who ever lived," Merlin said, leading Wyllt to the ice chest.

And maybe it was the light in the little back room, but for a moment after he'd said it, Merlin and Gwen thought that Wyllt seemed suddenly sad.

"He was," Wyllt said quietly, reaching into the freezer to pack a handful of ice cubes into the baggie Gwen fetched for him. "But greatness and power are two very different things."

Merlin and Gwen shared a look. For another moment more, the old man appeared lost in thought. And then he turned, smiling suddenly once again, and handed Merlin the ice for his hand.

"And don't you forget it!" He said brightly taking them both by the shoulders, making Gwen laugh.

"Now let's make some tea, and I'll tell you a story, as promised."

* * *

When Hunith stepped into the back room again after her customers had died down, she stopped herself in the doorway and smiled.

Inside, sitting on the window bench she used for her break times, was Wyllt, the big bulk of him slouched against the shaded glass at his back. Beside him was Merlin, tucked into one of Wyllt's arms, his long legs stretched out over Wyllt's legs. His socked feet were touching Gwen's knees, which were curled up and braced against Wyllt's other side, her head resting peacefully on Wyllt's other shoulder. She had one of her hands resting on Merlin's ankle. They looked to Hunith like a skewed mobius wheel. Mentally, she made a note to paint it.

Merlin had a melted bag of ice draped over his wrist, and carefully, Hunith removed it, trying not to disturb the three of them, and peered down at her son's bruised wrist with a helpless sigh.

Wyllt had made the children tea, and there was a plate of cheese and kielbasa half eaten on the sideboard. Lunch, she supposed. One of the children must have run up to the house to get it for them.

She looked around. Wyllt was snoring softly, and the sun coming through the window was growing hot now in the late afternoon. Carefully she lowered the top glass of the window to let in the breeze. Then, finding Wyllt's bag, she tucked in a tin of her new Royal Chi Lowen, and one of Merlin's star shaped ice trays, before turning to mind her store.

Beside the cabinet where her new teas were on display, Hunith had hung the original canvases of the tiny paintings she did by hand on her tins. The canvas for Chi Lowen was a broad painting, too large to fit entirely on one of the oval stickers she used for her labels. On the tea tin, there was a bright sunny expanse of windblown valley, done in the French style, and sitting atop its hill was a beautiful white walled city, her castle battlements blazing in the summer sun.

But on the canvas there was a long road leading down into a forest below the castle and the walls of the city, shrouded in shadows. An old man dressed in layers of blues and greys, a cap on his head, bearing a staff with a blue stone at it's top, stood on the path. Hunith supposed that the painting implied that he was walking towards the white castle. But she'd always imagined that the old man had only just left, was turning back to look once more on the white walls of it's shining face, before he continued on his journey, wherever it was that he was going.

The old man always seemed sad to her, somehow, even though he wasn't facing the canvas and so his expression was never plain. It was in the set of his shoulders that she imagined a resignededness, a kind of grief, also. It looked to her like the old man was saying goodbye.

She glanced at the back room with a faint smile. But that was all just her imagination.

It was only a painting, after all.


End file.
